Of Magic, Mystique, and Memoirs
by The Internet Explorer
Summary: What makes a hero truly heroic? In the enchanting forest village of Halkyonia, magic is a crime, witches are cast into the gallows, and each student trapped within is forced to enter these despairing witch hunts. Let the mist of disillusionment not blind you from the truth of this dark Story-and let us hope that the end is not tragic. (SYOC CLOSED!)
1. New Story, First Page

**Hello, Danganronpa fans!**

**For those of you who are new to my (weird-ish) SYOCs, welcome! I hope you will give my story a chance, however strange it may initially be. ;) If you want to see more of my writing, please consider looking at my other Danganronpa SYOC (now closed), Of Trials, Truths, and Tribulations. I try to update my work(s) least once a month, and while the initial first chapters tend to be short, future chapters are much more dense and content-rich.**

**For those of you who are currently reading my other Danganronpa SYOC fanfiction, Of Trials, Truths, and Tribulations, do not be alarmed! I am NOT discontinuing, nor postponing, OTTT. Of Magic, Mystique, and Memoirs will be a side project that will be updated alongside OTTT at different intervals. This way, if one is not updated, readers may refer to another as a source of amusement.**

**If you care to hear my thoughts on the SYOCs, OTTT is the more conservative of the two fics, while OMMM will be...zany. Extremely, extremely zany. But in a good way, I swear.**

**Anyway, whether you guys already know me or not, my goal is to present readers with high quality fanfiction, so, of course, reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome. I'm always looking to improve my writing skills.**

**Okay, that's enough talking from me. Alright, enjoy the story! :D**

* * *

They say that reading opens up entire worlds to those otherwise unable to visit such distant realms. Written word unfurls decade upon decade of history and ancient lore, allowing for readers to embark on adventures and tackle the unknown, all from the safety of one's own home. For a recluse like me, this has always been true, as well as simply fascinating.

My favorite genre, by far, is that of fiction. These types of works explore the unknown, the endless possibilities that have yet to be attained, the great mysteries of the universe. Fantasy, in particular, entertains the notions of magic and mythical beasts, both of which are non-existent in the real world. Myths, legends, and fairy tales...they engulf one in a strange, surreal setting, an entirely new realm, if you will, completely detached from our very own.

In truth, our domain is bent and distorted, riddled with crime and hatred, sin and disease, poverty and death. Fantasies are the only way to elude reality, if only for a short amount of time. It is a temporary escape that costs nothing.

I'm told that I should get my head out of "those books" and to socialize a bit more by several adults. However, I find real people much less interesting than the fictional ones I encounter. As a result, I tend to ignore such boorish, uninformed advice. Why bother being with others when books can do the very same, as well as be much more stimulating and enlightening, for the mind?

After all, I've been surrounded by literature and reading materials, both figuratively and literally, right from the very moment I was born. Novels and tomes of all sorts litter the Malgosia household, stacked upon counters, arranged neatly in bookshelves, or merely strewn about any other available space. Before I even grasped the concept of reading, I had probably already viewed the alphabet in its entirety while padding around on all fours. When I am not reading, I am writing papers-mostly out of boredom-on myths, peering into each individual sinew for deeper meaning and context. I suppose it isn't that outrageous of a background for the daughter of two renowned literary scholars.

Mother and father have home-schooled me for the majority of my life, and as far as I know, my intelligence quotient exceeds that of the typical adolescent girl. Father, being an English professor at a local university, has even taken a few of my pieces and brought them in for his students to examine prior to analyzing famous works of fiction. Therefore, the claim that social interaction is necessary for success seems ludicrous in my eyes, despite how often mother and father protest to my "unhealthy, antisocial behavior".

I had expected it to be this way forever-that I would remain in blissful ignorance when indulged in the countless pages of my books and sheltered by my home.

Then came the letter from Camelot Academy that ruined everything-the letter that proclaimed me to be the Elite Mythologist of the next Wise Class.

I pleaded with mother and father to promptly reject the invitation, but they would not hear of it. They dismissed my protests as mere antisocial delusions, insisted that this was an "amazing opportunity" and a "once-in-a-lifetime chance", that I should seize it immediately. Once, my parents even sat me down and gave an excessive, serious lecture on the prestige of Camelot Academy, in a vain attempt to convince me to attend. None of the information they had graced me with was anything new or revolutionary. Everyone has heard of Camelot and praise it to high heaven.

"Camelot is an excellent learning institution, Estelle-the very best in all of England. Not just anyone can enter, you know. The school itself hand-picks talented young high school students-such as yourself-to study there and carry on the next generation to a brighter future. It has top-notch instructors and facilities for all of its students, as well as beautiful, heavily embellished dorms to stay in. And what's more, those that graduate are granted eternal happiness and wealth!" A pause. "Doesn't that sound exciting?"

"Not particularly." I had replied in a bland, monotone voice-just to emphasize my lack of interest. "I don't see why I cannot continue studying under your guidance, mother and father."

"You can't stay locked in your room for the entirety of your life, dear! There are people to meet, places to visit, things to do!"

"I don't like people." I had stated truthfully enough. "I like my books."

"Come now, Estelle! Look at the acceptance letter. You've been put into the Wise Class-surely you'll be comfortable around those that share the same intellect as you!"

"There's no guarantee."

"Well, you're such a cute girl, Estelle. I'm sure you'll attract some nice girl friends, or perhaps a civilized gentleman to show you around the-"

"Ew."

The conversation had dwindled to an uncomfortable silence, signaling the end of our parents-to-child talk. I tend to have that kind of effect on others.

I hoped that I had clearly illustrated to mother and father exactly why I was reluctant to drop out of homeschooling, but…A few weeks later, my parents announced to me that I had been officially registered for Camelot Academy, thrusted an assortment of freshly purchased school supplies at me, and said that there was no "turning back" now. I should have known.

Honestly, the nerve of my parents! Why, mother has even gone to the trouble of dolling me up for my first day of class, pleating my golden hair into elaborate pigtail braids. Father has bought me a new set of clothes for the new school year. They coo and croon, reassuring me that everything will "turn out fine".

But no amount of gifts or comforting will ever convince me that choosing Camelot Academy was a smart decision. No-that wording is incorrect. I didn't choose Camelot...Camelot chose me.

My parents act as though I have suddenly become an honorary member of royalty, like the ones in fairy tales that just lay around and look pretty while their kingdoms crumble around them. Mother and father's perception could not be farther from reality. Rather than a potential princess, I feel like a future prisoner.

Mother and father expect great things from their genius of a daughter.

I scoff at them.

By no means was I intimidated by the idea of Camelot Academy. Rather, I am proud of my academic merits and wish to be treated with a reasonable amount of respect. Still, I am not at all ecstatic to be forced to face the very things I read to avoid-people and their dwellings. There is no happily ever after in the real world, no magic or fairy godmothers to save you at just the right moment. Only a mundane, bustling state of din thrives outside of books, boring me with its sheer simplicity.

As if to punish me for my cynical nature, the first day of school soon arrived like a speeding train to a body tied to a set of railroad tracks. (A morbid analogy, I know, but bear with me for a few moments longer.) Mother and father did me the honor of driving me to the Academy gates. Perhaps it's just because I don't go out often, but the ride to school seemed to drag on for an eternity, passing by various buildings and unrecognizable faces on our way to Camelot.

I did not allow my parents to escort me to the front door. I was too cross to have ever given them the satisfaction of physically turning me into this place. Seizing my luggage with hesitant hands, I forced myself to march on toward the school. I could feel the heat of my parents' eyes-as well as their wide grins-directed toward the back of my head the entire time.

The academy looked as regal as the public had built it up to be, with imposing golden gates and pristine white spires creating the illusion of a grand castle. Flowers and well-tended to plants dot the school garden while stone statues of old heroes and grandiose water fountains grace the remainder of the school campus, reminding visitors of the importance of the institution. Indeed, it looks like the sort of place inhabited by modern day royalty...that is to say, it looks too good to be true.

As the saying goes, one should not "judge a book based on its cover". I had a negative inkling, as soon as I passed through the chilling school gates, that this institution was completely gilded, using a pretty, innocent facade to disguise horrifying, ugly wounds. Just an inkling, mind you, a keen suspicion that the school spent more money on decoration than actual academics.

Still, that didn't stop me from finally stepping into the heavily embellished front foyer.

What happened next…that's a little fuzzy. If I muster up enough energy, I can picture myself in...what appears to be a waiting room, twiddling with my thumbs. I cannot seem to recall much of my time at Camelot Academy aside from a short exchange with, I believe, a staff member. The context of it all is unclear to me, though I do find it strange that, at the time, I appeared rather...compliant with the person I was addressing.

"Estelle Malgosia of the Wise Class?"

"Present."

"We will now proceed with your interview."

"Of course."

This...is my Story-the Story of the Forbidden Forest and the sixteen students trapped within it. Proceed with caution, dear Reader, for we have yet to even arrive at the outskirts of the great wood. Where this Story is headed, not even I know.

* * *

**The Complete Class Roster:**

**The Courageous:**

**1\. Zachariah Garmont, Elite Knight, is the self-proclaimed "gift to women everywhere". Both extremely confident and competent with his physical capabilities, Zachariah has a strong sense of justice and feels the constant need to protect those he considers "weak". He seems to lack a certain degree of common sense, never taking a hint when others want him to stop monologuing about upholding justice and vanquishing evil.**

**2\. Jaxon Caldwell, Elite Wayfarer, is a simple thrill-seeker that lives each day to its fullest ("carpe diem", if you will). He is friendly (and somewhat flirtatious), but generally has good intentions. Jaxon is easily distracted, but tries his best to see the good in everyone.**

**3\. Mana Farveou, Elite Mercenary, is...unique. While crafty and quick on her feet, Mana is quite lazy and needs a bribe or two (or ten) before she is motivated to do anything aside from sassing or talking back to others. Sarcastic and impolite, Mana takes great joy in teasing her peers, much to the annoyance of...pretty much everyone.**

**4\. Priscilla Olry, Elite Baker, is motherly, nurturing, and girlish, the type to put hearts instead of dots in lowercase i's. Many question why she was placed into the Courageous Class rather than the Kind Class-but those people just haven't seen Priscilla lose her temper yet. Frighteningly militant when angered, she isn't afraid to speak her mind or wallop anyone for misbehaving.**

**The Kind:**

**1\. Endi Amos, Elite Craftsman, is one who tends to think outside of the box. Difficult to upset and empathetic toward all of his peers, Endi is a gentle soul that's always willing to lend a hand. He likes to fiddle around with random bits and pieces that he finds lying around, as well as making spontaneous pieces.**

**2\. Johanna Zeal, Elite Boxer, is rough around the edges, passionate, and hot blooded as hell-but she's the type to defend her friends until the very end. Her punch packs...well...a punch, and she's always ready for a good challenge. Unfortunately, sometimes her attitude lands her in rather unfavorable situations...**

**3\. Ricard Bell, Elite Hunter, is a generous, altruistic individual. With a heart of gold and a naive, trusting stance on social interactions, Ricard is a pacifist that fights and hunts only if he needs to. He respects Mother Nature and her subjects in all of their mysterious, elusive majesty.**

**4\. Nissa Marigold, Elite Illusionist, is sweet and sociable by nature. Extremely bubbly and determined to make others smile, she'll pull out everything in her bag of tricks to generate happiness. According to Nissa, "little white lies" are okay, so long as the one telling them "has a good enough reason".**

**The Wise:**

**1\. Estelle Malgosia, Elite Mythologist, is a somewhat reclusive, cynical girl (oh, and our protagonist). Having descended from a pair of renowned literary scholars, she, too, pursues knowledge with a logical, level-headed mindset, although she seems to prefer the company of books to people. Estelle daydreams quite a bit and appears delicately detached from reality, but...is that all there really is to her?**

**2\. Ellanora Maria Addeneil (or simply "Maria"), Elite Statistician, is down-to-Earth and practical. Constantly calculating numbers in her head, Maria is both intelligent and curious, as her hobbies (aside from statistics) involve collecting objects and combining things into strange concoctions. She is more meek and submissive than most of the other students.**

**3\. Michael Jagner, Elite Bandit, is a devious and mischievous boy who uses his above-average intelligence to lie, tease, and poke fun at others. Though not mean spirited or a genuine bully, he has a habit of taking what he needs whenever he feels like it. Michael rarely applies himself in the classroom, and would much rather be out and about rather than cooped up studying.**

**4\. Lance Hawthorn, Elite Ventriloquist, is cunning, manipulative, and willing to use his wits to his advantage. Uncaring and cold, he constantly puts himself on a pedestal and belittles others that he deems are "below" him. Lance is essentially the Byakuya Togami of OMMM (brace yourselves)...**

**The Loyal:**

**1\. Thomas Durandal, Elite Courier, is always sporting a can-do attitude, having never once broken his oath of client confidentiality when delivering messages, packages, and letters. Once he is intrigued by something-anything-he will relentlessly pursue that "something" and is unlikely to give it up any time soon. Whether that's admirable or creepy is up for debate.**

**2\. Cado Stone, Elite Blacksmith, is like the dependable older brother that you've never had. Laid back and relaxed, Cado is not especially talkative, but he's always eager to be of use to those he trusts. On the other hand, he doesn't have much self-esteem or faith in himself to do very well.**

**3\. Carina Arcard, Elite Falconer, is never seen without her attention-seeking companion, Icarus. Both trainer and trainee are highly perceptive and strive towards self-improvement. A stickler for the rules, Carina will take it upon herself-and her falcon-to maintain peace if no one else will.**

**4\. Frieda Gatzemeyer, Elite Composer, is clearly dedicated to her work in the realm of music. She initially comes across as an aloof aristocrat, but at least Frieda strives to be composed and civilized, as any true lady should. Perhaps she may be friendlier than she seems-others just need to approach her first. Most people, in fact, say she is like an onion with many complex layers...**


	2. Into the Woods

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a young, impressionable READER. Day in and day out, the READER would lock himself away in his humble abode with stacks upon stacks of books, each speaking of a realm far fairer than the one he resided in. No one dared to approach this READER, for he claimed that he was both alone and happy.**_

_**But not really.**_

_**So, was this truly THE END for him? To be "alone" and "happy"? No, no, no-that would be just silly. It was not THE END.**_

_**Why, it was only THE BEGINNING.**_

* * *

Every single five year old girl dreams of being a smiley pink princess, decked out in a frivolous ball gown and expensive jewelry, caked in makeup and waited on by hundreds and hundreds of nameless servants. They fantasize of being whisked off their feet by a handsome, daring knight in shining armor, who will risk everything they have in order to protect them. Then they'd like to imagine that they get married and live happily ever after, without having to deal with any of the fuss that actually goes into developing a relationship, wedding planning, or legal obligations.

Every. Single. _Stupid._ Five. Year. Old. Girl.

These heavily romanticized ideals are constantly reinforced through literature, ancient tomes and modern adolescent novels alike-especially the concept of "happily ever after". Then when reality comes in to slap you in the face, you crumble onto the floor, bawling your eyes out, belted by pure disappointment. You cannot look me in the eyes and deny that with a straight face.

I may enjoy fairy tales, but I don't enjoy _those _types of fairy tales.

You know them very well-the stories with the useless, pathetic damsels in distress awaiting rescue, pining away for company while locked up in a tower (preferably one guarded by a ferocious, man-eating dragon). Then some random stranger comes, vanquishes the great evil, and is rewarded with a princess's hand in marriage or something. (And for the record, that is _not _how love works.) It's the typical, sappy boy-meets-girl and eventually, the boy-gets-girl plot. Trite, cliché, and not worth even a millisecond of my precious time to read. In short, utter garbage.

I don't bother to associate myself with that sort of material. It's just another harsh reminder that fact will never amount to the high expectations crafted through fiction.

Well, at least I can be thankful that while giddy, squealing girls still exist, literal knights in shining armor do _not_. They, much like many of the customs and traditions of the medieval era, have long since become outdated and died out. Or so I had _thought._

I'm telling you this now to give you a little bit of perspective before I _calmly_ and _carefully_ explain the events following my sudden memory lapse. (And if you can't tell that I was being sarcastic in that last sentence, you must be truly _daft_.)

So, I had just stepped onto Camelot Academy property and into the front foyer. For the record, the inside of the school is just as gaudy-if not _more_ gaudy-as the outside of it. I vaguely remember glimpsing at polished marble floors lined with potted plants and strong, cream columns supporting the sky-high ceiling up. Extravagant tapestries and oil paintings decorated the otherwise untouched walls, and a giant chandelier hung overhead, throwing particles of light in all directions. The scent of jasmine, amber, and refinement permeates in this regal atmosphere.

And to think, all of this for a high school's front foyer.

But strangely enough, I don't recall a receptionist seated at the front desk. In fact, the entire lobby had been empty at the time of my arrival-a highly unlikely occurrence, given that classes would begin shortly and thus, staff members would have to be on hand. Raising my eyebrows in a mixture of confusion and suspicion, I had proceeded to approach the unoccupied front desk, hoping to at the very least receive a schedule.

It was then that the strange dizzy spell had struck.

A shrill buzzing sensation invaded my head, sending me recoiling back and slamming into a cream-colored column. My surroundings began to blur and distort into unrecognizable, abstract blobs, and rubbing at my eyes did not help alleviate the hallucinations. This was soon followed by the buckling of my knees and the drooping of my eyelids. It was suddenly challenging to keep my head raised up, as my sense began to fade away from me, instead replaced with an eerie, out-of-place sensation of warmth and comfort.

I must have just conked out right there in the main office-and what an excellent way to make a first impression. I'm sure comments like, _Look, guys! There's the "genius" girl that's been homeschooled her whole life, snoozin' it up on the marble floor!_ and, _Sleeping Beauty, anyone?_ were thrown about in the absence of my consciousness.

Anyway, after my collapse in Camelot, I can't seem to recall much-just a terse conversation with a staff member. Something about an _interview…?_

If this were a fairy tale, the easy explanation would be a magic spell or a sleeping potion. Sadly, this isn't one of my books, so the only logic-land boring-conclusion that I can draw from this is that I must have collapsed from either stress or exhaustion. Still, even that seems like a stretch, considering that I have no anxiety to report of and that my parents made sure that I was well rested-with eleven hours' worth of sleep-for my first day at Camelot.

I hope that whoever finds me sprawled out on the ground won't ridicule me for it once I wake up. What actually occurs is actually much, _much _worse than that. But hold your horses for a minute, will you? I'll arrive at that part shortly!

In my awkward state of unconsciousness, I don't really process much of my environment, so I can't tell for sure if anything major happened while I was out. Who knows how much time could have elapsed between my initial fall and someone discovering me? My body, as well as my brain, goes numb for what I can assume is an exceedingly long time, because when I next picked up any sensory information, it seems to be quite disjointed from what Camelot Academy had presented to me.

At some point, I regain some of my senses, though my limbs remain weighed down like lead and my vision is still obscured because my eyelids refuse to open. I can roughly perceive muffled footsteps and hushed whispers tinged with worry. Then, a pleasant, cooling sensation whips by, like wind whistling through every fiber of my being. And finally, the unfamiliar aroma of clean linen and musk collides with my olfactory nerves, accompanied by warmth.

I'm sure you must be extremely confused by now. Trust me, I am too.

I frown out of mild frustration, squirming slightly in confusion as I attempt to piece together the available information in my (still somewhat cloudy) mind. Am I in the nurse's office? Perhaps with the window open? I wonder, as that appears to be the most reasonable location to bring a comatose new student. But the last time I checked, rooms designated for medical purposes reek of sanitary disinfect, not clean linen and musk. And no nurse's office has comforters thick enough to provide that much warmth.

Something...something is definitely off here-I just can't quite put my finger on it. Luckily for me, I don't have to-or rather, I don't have the time to, for a sharp, eager hoot arouses me from my dark slumber. The very minute my eyes flicker open, I regret doing so.

A blunt, pounding sensation in the back of my head welcomes me back into the realm of the conscious while a parade of colors-a majority of which are greens and browns-assault me. I feel like the sluggish Sleeping Beauty reentering the world after a hundred years of dreaming, warily craning my head around to take in unfamiliar sights and sounds, most of which are…woody perennials and the call of distant breezes. Acre upon acre of trees surround me, towering above like mighty obelisks, branches outstretched to the irresistibly blue sky, a sky sporting not a single cloud in sight.

This isn't a nurse's office-this isn't even Camelot. It's a forest, and that's as plain as day-pretty, much like the illustrations I have seen in storybooks, but eerily quiet and grossly uninhabited.

It takes me several moments to regain my composure and locate hooting perpetrator that had awaken me up-a plump owl, innocently roosting in a tree. He gazes at me inquisitively with wide, golden orbs, questioning my presence in his natural home. A few seconds into staring, the owl grows uninterested and takes flight, plunging deeper into the wood and leaving me behind.

But it's not the owl that first catches my attention when I get up.

No, that great distinction goes to the _random guy_ carrying me.

* * *

Yes, you heard right. The random guy _carrying me_. Take a few minutes to pause and let that sink into your head. In fairy tales, the very act is charming, even heroic. But in real life? It just means you're being, oh, I don't know...KIDNAPPED?! Yeah, that's an extremely pleasant way to start the school year-waking up to find yourself _being KIDNAPPED!_

I don't care if he looks like a pretty boy my age, with his chestnut hair whipped up into a quiff and a lean, muscular build! I don't care if most girls would find him dashing in his dapper navy suit and crimson cravat, that they'd probably swoon if he so much as looked in their general direction. There's absolutely nothing attractive about being hauled around like luggage by a stranger, and I refuse to be demoted to the level of an overzealous fan girl!

I struggle to find my voice, but at last am able to muster up a demand, although not without a bit of nervous stuttering. "P-Put me down th-this _instant_, you fool!"

Okay, perhaps that wasn't the most intelligent choice of words-for the very moment I finish speaking, my captor's alluring hazel eyes lock on to mine. I cannot read what thoughts are running through his head at the moment, so I internally panic, going dead quiet and freezing up under his gaze. Wouldn't you do the very same if you had found yourselves cradled in the arms of complete stranger instead of reporting for a class at school? _God, Camelot sounds like heaven right about now!_

The stranger, taking note of my desperate silence, suddenly laughs heartily in a booming baritone, ignoring my obvious anxiety. "Ah, at last! You have finally awakened, fair maiden! Huzzah, huzzah! Oh, 'tis indeed a joyous occasion!" A broad, cheeky smile graces his handsome features-and in response, I frown deeply.

"Let me GO!" I repeat, raising my voice in case the message hadn't penetrated his thick skull the first time around. "I want to be released right NOW!"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that!" The stranger insists, blatantly snubbing my request with a cheery disposition. "You may still be unwell and lack proper coordination after being out cold in the forest for so long! Therefore, I shall carry you for the remainder of the journey to the village! Let us pray that we shall encounter my fellow comrades in arms on the way to our destination!"

Okay, he just said a lot of things-most of them I don't quite fully comprehend, especially given that little remnants of my harsh headache still plague me. I let the abductor know exactly what I think of him, regardless of my lack of understanding.

"You are _crazy!_" I sputter, putting emphasis on the single adjective in my short sentence.

"I am _many_ things, milady, but crazy is not one of them." He declares stubbornly, flashing another toothy grin. If the light hits him at the right angle, I think he'd sparkle more than a disco ball or any literary teen vampire that I've heard of. "'Tis my duty to protect the weak and defenseless and to keep them safe by any means necessary!" Completely unrattled by my insult, the stranger continues on his merry way tromping through the forest while dragging me along with him. "So fear not, for no harm or suffering shall befall one under the protection of a noble man such as myself!"

"First of all, I'm NOT your lady!" I protest vehemently, my patience quickly deteriorating with every single exchange I have with him. Has he seriously deluded himself into thinking that he's some sort of hero? "Second of all, I'm NOT weak and defenseless! And third of all, I don't FEEL very safe or free of fear under your so-called 'protection'! Now _unhand _me!"

Again, the boor merely shakes his head at me, dismissing my protests. I'm so irritated at this imbecile paying no heed whatsoever to my constant complaints that I begin thrashing about in his arms in an attempt to free myself from his grip. This, at last, gets the stranger's attention, causing him to skid to a sudden stop. Finally, I'm getting somewhere.

"Please do not struggle so, milady! I fear that I may drop you should you continue to-"

I cut him off with a sharp glare. "Good! Then put me down at once, or I'll _keep_ struggling until you _actually _do drop me!"

A horrified expression appears momentarily on the stranger's face before being replaced with a torn look as he furiously contemplates between his two options. It, surprisingly, doesn't take him long before he reaches a final decision (albeit grudgingly).

"As…as you wish." He bows his head in submission and reluctantly crouches down, allowing me to walk upon the earth again. I eagerly return to the ground, however light headed and dazed my mind tells me that I am. Never has it ever felt this invigorating to just move around on my own two feet! In fact, I don't believe that I shall ever take walking for granted again!

Overcome with giddiness at having regained both my mobility and my consciousness, I almost forget about the stranger. He stands valiantly at my side, observing my first few cautious steps on my own with a careful eye, sighing with relief when I have clearly demonstrated the capability to walk. Our eyes, once again, meet-mysterious hazel clashing with my deep cerulean-and after an awkward pause, the stranger proceeds with an inquiry.

"Are you pleased with this, milady?" He asks, gliding down to a low bow. I guess many would find it a polite gesture, a sign of good faith and amicability-but I'm still suspicious. If I've learned anything from reading Little Red Riding Hood, it's to not trust overly friendly strangers you encounter, especially in the forest.

"Define pleased." I reply sarcastically, taking a step away from him in case he changes his mind and decides to literally sweep my off my feet again. The smart choice would be to bolt at once, but instead I hold my ground and see if I can wring any information out of him. I know that my terrible sense of direction, honed through several years of staying inside reading, will only wind up pushing me deeper into the woods. "I'll be pleased when you inform me of where I am!"

"Woe is me! I'm afraid that I am not aware of our current location. I am merely the one responsible for finding you under the shade of a great oak!"

"Uh, okay-"

"There I was, heroically patrolling the area for any abnormalities in these foreboding, sinister woods-when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a petite young maiden in desperate need of assistance, sporting fair skin, golden locks, full lips, and cheeks tinged a rosy hue, like a princess from a storybook!" The stranger explains, launching into a long train of needless (and somewhat disturbing) details. He's referring to me as his _damsel in distress_-and it takes much of my willpower to suppress a clear, disgusted grimace. Maybe if I let him monologue for long enough, he might slip up and tell me something that's actually relevant.

"And so, I approached the damsel beneath the tree with nothing but the utmost caution, careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber. Alas! The fair maiden would not awaken, no matter what method of trickery I employed, from calling out to shaking! Oh, how my heart sank knowing that the princess remained in dreamland!" He pauses dramatically before continuing his excessive soliloquy. All I'm thinking is that I should at least be thankful that he didn't try to kiss me into consciousness (I shiver just at the thought of such a _blasphemous _act)!

"Therefore, I took it upon myself to attempt to bring her to a safe location with all due speed, in hopes that we may regroup with our fellow peers and then decide our next course of action!" Having reached the apex of excitement, the stranger then does what no self-respecting adolescent male in their right mind would ever do: he drops onto one knee, beams brightly, and offers a hand to me (probably expecting me to eagerly clasp it). I can only recoil away in abhorrence, though he doesn't seem to register it. "Come now, fair maiden! Let us go seek out our admirable allies!"

"I'm not going _anywhere _with you!"

His face visibly falls. "But milady-"

"Don't you _'but milady'_ me!" I seethe, planting balled up fists on my hips, face flushed entirely pink from a mixture of rage and embarrassment. At this point, my tolerance levels for his outrageous behavior has plummeted to zero. "I've never seen you before in my entire life, so what basis could you possibly have for making such an _outlandish claim_?!"

The stranger falls into an uncharacteristically stupefied speechlessness, his cocky face reduced to pieces of a shattered smile at his feet. I guess he's not used to being rejected-and I don't exactly feel sorry for turning him down. Confident that I've put the stranger in his place, I fold my arms across my chest and wait for him to concede defeat.

"You…you are most correct. We know nothing of one another-so perhaps it was a bit forward of me to request the honor of guiding you, fair maiden, to yet another group of strangers." From his awkward kneeling position, he gazes up at me, handsome features crowned with temporary shame and sadness. Note the key phrase temporary.

"Excellent." I reply with an annoyed huff. "Now that we've properly established that you're a **creeper**, I can move on to more important matters, such as my whereabouts-"

In a single, swift movement, the stranger leaps onto his feet and makes his move, cutting me off by abruptly seizing both of my hands in his. He has made a complete recovery from his previous moment of loss, eyes blazing with a new found passion, much to my dismay. _Does nothing penetrate through that thick head of his?!_

"H-Hey! Let go of m-" I attempt to rip myself away from the fool, but he sports an iron grip. And again, he interrupts me, his deep baritone easily overpowering my irritated twitters.

"Let us become properly acquainted at once!" The stranger boldly declares, eagerly leaning forward with a wide smile pasted on his face. _Okay, waaay too close for comfort._ I pull away with a scowl-or at least as far away as I possibly can with my hands clasped by his. "Surely, then, you will be wholeheartedly convinced that I am a chivalrous man of the highest caliber! What say you, milady?"

"I say you're even _crazier_ than I had initially thought you were!" I proclaim loudly, still desperately trying to wrench myself free of the stranger's strong hold. Of course, this has absolutely no effect on my oblivious captor. He, instead, proceeds to launch into another soliloquy-this time, a lengthy (and rather uncalled for, if you ask me) self-introduction.

I am not granted an opportunity to further protest against his actions-for before I can, a flash of sunlight eludes the shade of the forest's trees, illuminating a single golden badge pinned to the stranger's suit. Instantly, I'm shocked into silence. It is not the object itself that interests me, but what is inscribed into it: the crest of an elaborate escutcheon emblazoned with a plethora of enchanted beasts clamoring around a palace lying on the horizon. I wear the very same badge upon myself at the moment-it is proof of a close association with Camelot.

It is then that a horrible thought hits me, an awful discovery that I can do little to alter-and the stranger proceeds to confirm it, thus bringing breathing life into the monstrous nightmare.

"Milady, you need not have fear of me! I am none other than Sir Zachariah Garmont, an esteemed student of Camelot Academy's Courageous Class and known by all as the Elite Knight! 'Tis my absolute _sworn _duty to rescue and protect all damsels in distress from the many malicious forces that plague the human race! With my sword, I shall strike down evil when it confronts me, and with my shield, I shall guard _the weak_ and _the helpless_! It shall be no different for you, milady! I will do everything in my power to bring you to a safe sanctuary for respite and recovery-I swear this upon my honor as a knight!"

"A knight. You're…you're a _literal _knight?" I repeat cautiously, eyeing the stranger-no, Zachariah, is it?-with much suspicion. He certainly looks the part with his lean, slightly muscular build and pristine, princely features-but I still doubt him after his overzealous display of…self-proclaimed chivalry.

"Indeed, I am!" He beams brightly, loosening his grip on me upon (incorrectly) sensing a boost in trust. "'Twas a long and arduous journey from squirehood to earning the noble name of chevalier!"

I miss a beat or two just processing that fact alone. An honest-to-goodness modern day knight…_What is this world coming to?_

"And you're a Courageous Elite of Camelot Academy?" I reiterate, raising an eyebrow. I'm seriously questioning what the admissions staff was thinking when they were looking through the pool of potential students and selecting the next group of incoming kids.

"Yes, milady!" Zachariah replies ecstatically, inching closer with his irritatingly wide, white smile. "My comrades in arms also hail from the famed Camelot-and, from the badge that you wear upon your breast, I can see that you are also associated with the academy! We are all in the same situation-lost in these woods-thus, we should band together to relay a solution to our foul predicament!

"Now then, fair maiden! Will you do me the honor of gracing me with an introduction of your very own? Surely one as chaste and lovely such as yourself has an equally as chaste and lovely na-"

"I'll _gladly_ do that if you'd give my back my personal space!" I cry snarkily, holding back the strong reflex to gag-or to, perhaps, knee him in order to make an escape. If Zachariah gets any closer, I think I might actually need to resort to that.

"Ah, of course-as you wish, milady." The knight, having deluded himself into believing that he has earned my trust, immediately complies with my demand. He releases my hands from his loosened grip and takes a few steps back, granting me a bubble of roominess. Our gazes overlap with one another-his, eager and earnest. Mine, doubtful and determined-determined at all costs to get as far away from this lunatic as I can.

And, as any sensible, sane person would, I do two things in the spontaneity of the moment: I turn the other way and make a run for it.

* * *

It doesn't take a genius to predict that-as soon as I attempt to bolt off-Zachariah leaps into action, ardently pursuing me like a predator would unto its prey. I desperately will my puny legs to carry me farther and farther away from the obsessive knight, but I know that it's only a matter of time before Zachariah, with his superior strength, speed, and stamina, catches up with me. Still, if there's one asset I have over him, it's my mental prowess-and surely I can use this forest's features to my advantage! As I rip through the woods, my eyes dart back and forth aimlessly, seeking out some clever way to elude the knight.

"Please wait, milady! It's dangerous to go alone-allow me to accompany you!" Zachariah pleads, his panicked baritone growing louder and louder-and his physical being, closer and closer-as the chase persists.

_Yup, __**definitely**__ a creeper._

"I'll be fine on my own, thanks!" I manage to retort indignantly.

"With all due respect, milady, you will NOT be fine on your own!" Zachariah protests, clearly in disagreement with my decision. There's worry interwoven in his deep voice-but whether or not there is an ulterior motive stashed behind that worry is up for debate. I'm not willing to risk stopping to find out. "Ruffians and viscous wild beasts could very well be present in the general vicinity! You would be wise to take up my offer of protection!

NOT happening! I make a sharp left turn, ducking into a new stretch of woods. Against the brown and green palette of nature, my flaxen hair makes me stick out like a sore thumb…but from the looks of the well-worn, beaten path and the overgrown shrubs, it should provide better cover for me.

"Milady, I beg you to reconsider and return to me posthaste!" Zachariah calls, his already evident anguish and vexation surging to even more absurd heights. I ignore him and continue wandering deeper and deeper into the forest. "Milady! _MILADY!_"

_Take the road less traveled_, I instruct myself.

Swerving through a thicket of flora and swatting aside a branch in my way, I pray that some obstacle-any obstacle-slows Zachariah down. And what luck I have! From the subdued _ow_ that follows, I'm assuming that the branch has recoiled to slap the knight in the face. Tossing a quick glance over my shoulder, I can make out the sight of Zachariah stumbling backwards while groping at his face blindly. Good-that buys me some time.

Mustering up my remaining bits of energy, I surge ahead, unsure of where exactly I'm going. I'm not particularly certain I quite care, so long as I can obtain a moment's respite from Zachariah! I urge myself, though my stinging legs feel like jelly and my knees feel as though they may give way any moment now, to keep venturing forth. The militant drumming of my feet against the ground and the pounding of my heart are the only two things reassuring me that I will be successful in my escape.

Zachariah's frantic shouts eventually fade into nothingness, but I cannot allow myself a single second of rest-not until I'm far, far away. Thinking about it now, that's how a lot of stories begin: _once upon a time, in a land far, far away..._but this is one tale that I wish to quickly conclude! Wordlessly, I trudge on.

After a while, the scenery begins to take a turn for the worse. Darkness soon shrouds the scarce amount of sunlight penetrating through the treetop canopy overhead, leaving me stumbling to adjust to the lack of light. Trunks become twisted and gnarled like the forgotten faces and fingers of the dead. The melancholy wind weeps to no one in particular. But the Elite Knight no longer appears to be chasing me, and that's all that matters.

I slow from a sprint to a jog, then to a power walk to a casual stroll, a thoughtful pace to a snail's crawl. At some point, I stop propelling myself forward altogether.

_Am I...safe?_ I whip around to take a cursory glance around me, keeping my eyes and ears alert for any signs of Zachariah. When nothing of the sort lunges out, I collapse into a relieved heap on the forest floor and commence with taking huge gulps of oxygen to compensate for my prolonged trek through the woods. Perhaps I can finally take a break from dealing with the knight's shenanigans...

...or at least I would have, if not for the out-of-place chuckling that rains down from above, freezing me in my tracks.

"You look _ridiculous_, girlie." The unfamiliar singsong chirps, apparently amused at my struggle. I frown at the unknown speaker, but dare myself to look up, expecting to find something-or someone-akin to the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

And there she is, nestled among the prickly leaves of the tree I bask beneath, lazily propped up into an upright sitting position and slightly slouching, her legs dangling absentmindedly off of a single strong branch. She looks like she could be a relative of mine, with her fair skin and curtain of medium-length, bright gold hair. The similarities with me, however, stop there. Her emerald eyes sport strange gear-shaped pupils with sharp grooves, and she is much more..._developed,_ shall I say, than I am. A long, creamy skirt and a buttercup-yellow blouse hangs loosely off of her frame, but I'm only really concerned with the emblem stitched upon her breast pocket-the emblem of Camelot Academy.

Another student-an immature one at that, monkeying around in the tree tops when she is fully clothed in a school uniform.

"What 'cha doing down there?" She inquires, speaking as though addressing mere child. Granted, I am a little petite in stature, but I still don't care for that patronizing tone of hers! "Takin' a break from playing tag? Or is it hide 'n go seek?"

"Neither!" I insist, irritated that she thinks of all this as child's play-though it occurs to me that the girl may be able to lend her assistance, so I hastily back-peddle and attempt to explain myself to her. "Look, I'm trying to get away from this crazy guy who won't leave me alone, and I think he might actually be a professional stalker or somethi-"

"Ah-_hah_! So it _is _a game of tag!" The stranger declares airily, pleased with herself for having guessed correctly. She doesn't seem the least bit concerned for me at all! "Well, why didn't 'cha just say so, girlie? I can help you settle this issue real quick y'know...for the _right price_, of course."

_Settle it?_ Does she mean to help me flee, or does she mean to turn me in? I furrow my brow in confusion, for I have no idea whose side she's on. Out of plain suspicion, I slowly inquire, "You...You're not with Zachariah, are you?"

At my question, the girl's lips curl upwards into a sly, sarcastic grin. How dare she have the gall to find my distress amusing! "He gave you the whole damsel-in-distress spiel too, huh? _Hah!_ That's the eighth time he's done that today! _Classic_ Zach!"

"Are you going to help me or not?!" I demand impatiently, internally praying that not every single one of my Camelot peers was as insane as the knight was. I'm in desperate need of aid from someone-anyone-with a single thread of logic in their body!

"Weeeeell…like I said 'fore, that depends on how much cash you've got on you." She smirks, running the tips of her index and middle finger over her thumb-the hand gesture for m-o-n-e-y. "Com'on, let's see how much you have lining up those fancy-schmancy pockets 'o yours!"

"W-What?!" My jaw drops in alarm at her jarring stipulation. "What would a high school student in the middle of a forest need any money for?!"

"You don't expect the Elite Mercenary to work without pay, do you?" The stranger groans, rolling her eyes in mild exasperation. "And besides, moolah makes the world go 'round! I thought that was common knowledge!"

"Elite Mercenary?!" I sputter in disbelief, pupils dilating in horror. Are you kidding me? What's Camelot Academy doing inviting a low-life mercenary into its ranks?!

"Yuppers, girlie~ The Elite Mercenary of the Courageous Class, Mana Farveou, is at your service…or not at your service, if you're without any dough!" She announces with an exaggerated flourish and a mock air of dignity. Is this how she's planning on playing this-by acting as the devil's advocate? "So, the question now is…_how much do you have_?"

"Do I look like I've got any currency on me?!" I exclaim crossly, cheeks flaring up in rage. The Courageous Class is full of weirdos and criminals!

"Eeeeh? That's a shame, quiiite a shame." Mana shrugs, throwing her arms behind her head with a drawn out yawn. "I could've been on your side, y'know…but since you can't seem to pay up, I'm gonna hafta turn the other way."

My entire body goes ice cold, a chill racing down my spine. She's going to…

"N-No, WAIT! Don't-" I lunge toward the tree, but it's too late.

Mana completely disregards my shouts of distress, instead taping her lips together to whistle a single sharp, haunting note. The sound ricochets like a bullet, ringing throughout the forest like the remains of a muted scream. A pause-and then, from the distance, comes a chorus of whistles in reply.

"They say that they're on their way over riiight now!" The mercenary cries, translating the already clear message for me. Tilting her head to one side to take in my flustered look, her crafty grin widens. "Hey, you'd better start runnin' again, y'know? Zach and the others are pretty quick on their feet. In fact, they're sure to be here in no time to fetch you~"

"Th-There's even _MORE_ of you delinquents?!" I stutter, paling at the thought of an army of Zachariah and Mana clones. I don't think I can _bear_ dealing with any more of them-the two individuals I am currently aware of are _already _handfuls!

"Sure are, smartypants-four in all, but they're even more of us at the base." Mana replies coyly, only to be interrupted by another trill-this one disturbingly louder than the others. Disturbingly _closer_ than the others. Her beam further broadens, amused at my dismay. The whistle comes again at a higher volume. "Oh, that's right-Hippie Boy's not far off from this spot. Run if you want, but know that you're outnumbered."

"I can do basic arithmetic, thank you very much!" I declare stubbornly-but inside, I'm panicking for a way out of this situation. A third student is coming, and I still have no sense of direction, no method of knowing which routes aren't being patrolled by the members of their group. The palms of my hands go cold and clammy from the anxiety. _Hurry up and think of something, Estelle!_

But I don't have the luxury of staying put and contemplating, nor the time for berating Mana (though I'd simply love to do just that!). I must flee-hurry, hurry, _hurry!_-before I am caught, before the third student arrives! Throwing the mercenary up in the tree one final glare, I veer around and prepare to bolt.

I make about five step of progress before I meet the barrel of a rifle, fangs bared and ready to fire.

"Don't move," The weapon wielder advises, stepping out carefully from behind a large shrub, "and do not make a _single_ sound."

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

* * *

I'm not able to scream-even if I wanted to, which I do-for my throat has gone entirely dry. From his tanned complexion and unkempt, shaggy dirty blonde locks, I assume that he's no stranger to the great outdoors-but that's not the frightening part. What are genuinely frightening are his accessory choices-particularly the eye patch concealing his left eye while the other, a lone chocolate orb, stares straight ahead. Other items include a necklace composed of teeth that hangs over his deep green tunic, a scaly belt, and a plethora of animal hide bracelets.

Oh, and let's not forget that _rifle_ he's toting around.

"Don't. Move." He repeats his previous instructions in a grave tone-though his gaze isn't fixated on me, but rather, on something behind me. His single tawny eye narrows in intense focus, his finger hovering near the trigger. Then…silence.

After a pregnant pause, the boy instantly lowers his weapon and slings it across his back, as if he has lost interest in whatever it was that he had been pointing his rifle at. "Never mind, just a false alarm."

"Huh…?" In confusion, I glance behind me to see what his target had been: an owl roosting in a tree adjacent to Mana's. I'm not sure if it's the same one I had seen when I had first awakened in the forest, but it looks extremely similar. The owl seems to look as me as though he's viewing me for the second time as well, with an odd sense of familiarity in his wide eyes. He lets out a hoot before, again, taking off into the woods.

My head snaps back to the boy with the weapon, eyeing him up and down cautiously. Running again will probably get me nowhere, so I hold my ground instead. "And are you Courageous as well?" I demand haughtily-why, I wouldn't be surprised if he was! _Birds of a feather flock together!_

"Who, Hippie Boy?" Mana interjects from her perch, smirking in glee. I suppose it was an incorrect guess on my part. "Naw, he's in the Kind Class."

"A Kind student hauls around a _rifle_ and _ammunition_?" I sputter, the irony very apparent in my statement. With each student that I meet, my already low opinion of Camelot Academy only continues to sink. It's pretty much reached rock bottom at this point.

"Ah, yes. I'm the Elite Hunter, after all, so…" He smiles uncomfortably in a vain attempt to lighten up the mood. I continue to grimace at him.

"Er, did you think that I was going to shoot you?" The new arrival inquires worriedly, drinking in my alert expression with much concern. When I don't bother to answer, he proceeds to explain himself. "Don't worry, I would never dare harm any of my friends!"

"We've only _just _met!" I huff, keeping my distance in case he tries any…any…_any funny business_, as Zachariah had earlier. In fact, I'm still on edge from having my encounter with the Elite Knight. The armed student reels back at my harsh tone of voice. "So we are not friends!"

"Sorry, sorry! I don't want any trouble, so please don't think badly of me!" The hunter cries, rapidly apologizing while throwing his hands up in an act of defeat. Well, that was quick. "What I meant to say was that…uh…I'm Ricard Bell, and I hope that we can get along!"

At the Kind student's sudden surrender, Mana bursts out into another inappropriately timed fit of laughter. "What'cha think of Bubbles, Hippie Boy? Isn't she so _perky_ and _bright_?" I don't appreciate the sarcastic nickname, so I shoot the mercenary a dirty look. _Perky_ and _bright_ are the _last_ adjectives I'd use to describe myself.

"I think we should be glad that we've found the final student!" Ricard insists cheerily, still managing to remain upbeat. "We should try to regroup with the other two scouts before we all head back to the base…"

"Wait a minute! I haven't agreed to go _anywhere_ with you people!" I bitterly protest, earning a shocked expression from the hunter.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I just assumed that you'd come along, since, y'know…uh…the forest doesn't seem like a safe place to be in, especially once the sun sets." Upon viewing my still doubtful face, Ricard continues arguing for his cause. "There are plenty of other Camelot students at the base, as well as food and water. It should work as a temporary shelter until we can work a way out of the forest. And us, well…we're just scouts that the other kids voted on to go out and search the area."

"So the knight _wasn't_ lying about all of that?" I press uncertainly. The information seems much, much more credible when coming from Ricard as opposed to his preachy peer (whereas Mana didn't even so much as TRY to clarify anything to me).

"The _'knight'_? You mean Zach? You know him?" Ricard asks, ears perking up at the mention of the Courageous male.

"Unfortunately, I do." I reply, trying to block out Mana's redundant tittering in the background of the conversation. (Just what exactly does she find so entertaining about all of this?) Her giggles are accompanied by the distant sound of heavy approaching footsteps-belonging to another arriving student, I assume. "I met your helpful mercenary friend here while I was trying to get away from Zachar-WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!"

Midway through my sentence, I'm hoisted into the air from behind and sent flying in a dizzying circle by an unknown assailant. Gradients of greens and hues of blue obscure my vision as I go around and around. As soon as the world ceases spinning, I find myself back in the very position that started this whole mess: being carried bridal-style by the Elite Knight-only this time, we have a live audience. _Yay._

"_MILADY!_ Thank heavens that you are unscathed!" Zachariah bellows jubilantly, exhilarated at having reclaimed his 'damsel in distress'. The right side of his face is still slightly red from being assaulted by a branch earlier. "I have searched high and low through this baleful, menacing forest for your most beauteous visage! Some vile monstrosity must have bewitched the fair maiden, I thought, for who would _willingly_ flee from the protection of a willing and capable knight such as myself? Alas, I feared that some malevolent force had _spirited you away_ when I could not find thee, despite all of my anguished efforts! Oh, but to think that I would happen upon two of my valued comrades and my runaway princess at the same time-'tis truly a _miracle_!"

"PUT ME DOWN AT ONCE, ZACHARIAH!" I shout, immediately resorting to thrashing and flailing about wildly to pound the message into his dense skull. Sadly, this method doesn't work the second time around, for the knight's grip only tightens on me. I suppose after my daring escape plan, he's more committed than ever to not letting me out of his sight. (Mana and Ricard being present isn't helping me cope!) I feel as though I've just been dropped into the middle of some demented writer's poorly crafted work for the twisted amusement of his readers.

"Oh, man! This is comic gold here!" The Elite Mercenary clutches onto her sides, attempting to do her best to bottle in her laughter. Ricard, meanwhile, face-palms before awkwardly raising his voice to the knight and I.

"Uh, Zach?"

"Ah, Sir Ricard of Bell! I_ commend_ you and Lady Mana of Farveou for reuniting me with this fair maiden! If I were thy commander, I would grant thee new noble titles and sizable pieces of arable land!"

"Zach, we need to talk."

"But of course, my comrade!"

"Please tell him to _put me down_!" I desperately sputter in the backdrop of their conversation, moderately irritated that the knight has, time and time again, ignored my requests to unhand me, yet he is readily willing to listen to Ricard.

"Listen, chasing girls through the woods and whisking them off their feet might lead people to think that you're some kind of perverted stalker…" The pacifist hunter begins slowly, instantly illustrating all of my concerns with Zachariah in one measly sentence. "I know that you're probably really excited to have discovered another student, but maybe you're going about it the wrong way. I sure don't want to see one of my friends in trouble for sexual harassment, so maybe it would be best to put her down."

Zachariah frowns at the hunter's choice of words. "I assure you, Sir Ricard, that I am _no_ perverted stalker! My noble intentions are _far_ from ludicrous sexual harassment-"

I don't believe a _single_ word of what he says.

"Yes! I understand that, Zach-but your…uh…_'princess' _there looks pretty uncomfortable to me. You should be a decent person and let her go if she insists."

Zachariah's shoulders droop-I think he's truly struggling with grasping the basic concepts of dignity and shame. The knight redirects his hazel eyes toward me, arching an eyebrow in bewilderment. "Milady, is that what you desire?"

"YES!" I exclaim as loud as I possibly can to drive the message into Zachariah's brain. "That is EXACTLY what I've been trying to get you to realize since the moment we first MET! Now may I _please_ be put down?!"

Complete, utter disgrace and horror seizes the knight's face as he scrambles to place me back on the ground. As soon as I am set free, I make it my first priority to clamber as far away from Zachariah as possible. He is able to successfully restrain himself from chasing after me a second time, so it looks like the restraining order I was planning on filing won't be needed.

"F-Forgive me, milady!" Zachariah calls frantically, genuinely stressed at the thought of angering me-or perhaps angering a female in general. "I...I deeply apologize for any unnecessary distress I may have brought unto you for the short time that we have known each other!"

"Unnecessary distress isn't even _close_!" I grumble under my breath, proceeding to dust myself off at a safe distance. "Why, I feel positively _filthy_ and _unclean_ after being so roughly handled!"

At my disgusted declaration, Mana proceeds to snicker, throwing both of her hands over her mouth in a rather futile attempt to conceal her giggles. "Wow, you are such a _prude,_ Bubbles!"

"Excuse me?! This is NOT funny!" I protest, glaring up at the mercenary in the tree. "You wouldn't be laughing so much if _you_ were the one to wake up in the arms of a shady stranger!"

"Milady!" Zachariah gasps, clearly appalled by the adjective I had selected to describe him. (I suppose I may be one of the few people that chooses to point out his flaws rather than extol them...) "I am, by no means, shady!"

"Sh-Shut up!" I falter with formulating intelligent sentences from the aftermath of my unexpected reunion with the knight, thus weakening my argument. "Y-You're the LAST person I want to hear th-that from! A-And I w-want you to stay as FAR away f-from me as possible from now on, got it?!"

"But how shall I protect you if I am not by your side at every waking moment of the day, fair maiden?"

"SIMPLE-don't protect me!"

"WHAT?!" Zachariah's already obnoxiously loud baritone revs up to an even more obnoxious volume. Obviously, the idea sounds blasphemous to him-he reacts as though I have suggested that he commit murder-clenched fists, flaring nostrils, dilated pupils, and all! "You wish for me to leave a damsel unattended to?! The very notion _sickens_ me!"

"Well, the very notion of being attended to sickens _ME_!" I retort, folding my arms across my chest. At least he's finally listening to what I have to say-at the expense of Mana getting a humiliating kick out of all of this.

"Ah, miss! Please don't hate Zach!" Ricard nervously interjects, cutting the quarrel short before it becomes a full-scale verbal war. The peacemaking hunter addresses me specifically-the newest member to their group-with caution. "I know he can come off as...bold, but you should know that he means only the best for you-er, even if he is a little...misguided. So please give him-give us-a chance. We're all students of Camelot, so we should all try to get along." He faces each and every single one of us in turn. "Right?"

Despite Ricard's extensive efforts to reconcile us, the only response he manages to receive is a shrill screech from the skies. Out of pure instinct, I veer accusingly to Mana, the only one on an elevated plane, but the mercenary looks (for once) totally innocent. But where did that odd sound come from? I tilt my head upwards to survey the vast blue expanse above.

"Watch out, milady!"

And I duck down in time to avoid being nearly decapitated.

* * *

I'm rewarded with a cold blow of sod when I fall to the ground, but at least I manage to narrowly escape death. The aerial assailant has dark, dangerous eyes and a sleek coat, much like a piercing bullet. It is elegant and dapper-but more importantly, the murderous being seems to be out for my blood.

A second surreal shriek rings out almost immediately following the first, announcing another high-velocity dive from the air. I get one split glimpse of its tawny, ruffled plumage before I need to consider calculating my next movements to dodge an attack. The creature rockets at me, wings outstretched in magnificent arcs, feathered figure drowning out the sun like a proverbial angel of death. I (lamely) do my best to dart out of its way.

Twice have I seen an owl in this forsaken forest, but this is my first viewing of a falcon.

I'm not as informed on birds of prey as I am on myths, but I certainly know that don't want razor-sharp talons wedged into my head, nor my eyeballs gruesomely pecked out. Such was the fate of Cinderella's two wicked stepsisters in the Brothers Grimm version of the tale. But now is not the time for the talk of fables-I need to focus on my own survival.

A third screech resonates throughout the entire forest, a final belligerent declaration blaring in my ears. The falcon veers around midair and plunges at me at a supernatural speed, killing off any chances of fleeing. There's no way I can outrun such an agile predatory bird!

I brace myself for the painful impact of death.

But it never comes.

_...Huh?_

I cautiously peel my eyes open, only to be met with a rather peculiar sight.

The falcon has gently landed in front of me with a soft whoosh, curiously bearing its gaze into my face, as if demanding something. Shocked at his sudden change of heart, I cautiously draw out both of my hands to demonstrate to him that I have nothing of value on my being. He, instead of becoming enraged or disappointed, begins lightly pecking at my palms, alternating between left and right. A...friendly gesture of sorts?

"Wh-What does it want from me?" I inquire anxiously of my peers-none of which appear particularly perplexed by the fact that not once, not twice, but thrice did a wild bird try to prey on me. "I don't have any food...Will it hurt me if I don't give it anything?"

I anticipate Ricard, perhaps the only sensible student of the trio, to respond to my question, but instead, another voice pipes up to do so-a stern, feminine voice that I do not recognize. It must be the fourth and final member of the aforementioned group of forest scouts.

"Icarus will not harm you. He simply craves the attention." The speaker, a pallid girl with a lanky body clad in a conservative crimson dress and ebony shoes, steps before me from the cover of the trees. Her short, tousled blonde locks look as though an animal has attacked it and suggest wild behavior, but her navy eyes, sharp and discerning, imply composure and wit. "You'll have to forgive him for frightening you with that gaudy display. My companion here enjoys showing off for any newcomers that he comes across-but I can imagine that he must be bothering you. Speaking of which...

"Return to me, Icarus." The girl follows up her words with the snap of her fingers-and in an instant, the falcon, Icarus, flocks to his master and perches comfortably on her right shoulder. I can do nothing but gape on in awe-although the stranger interprets my shock at her craft as a silent demand for a self-introduction.

"Oh, where are my manners?" She straightens her already impeccable posture and meets my eyes, her gaze unwavering. Offering me a hand, she hoists me back onto my feet. "I am Carina of the Arcard household, a Loyal student of Camelot Academy and the Elite Falconer. It is a pleasure to meet you, newcomer." From her side, Icarus puffs up in pride, as though wordlessly introducing himself to me alongside his tamer.

I marvel at the falcon's name-Icarus being the son of the legendary Greek craftsman and creator of the Labyrinth, Daedalus. While attempting to escape the island prison of Crete with wings forged of wax and feathers, Icarus had made the foolish decision not heed his father's advice by flying too close to the sun. He is said to have fallen into the ocean and drowned to death. It is a rather ironic title for a falcon, but a fascinating one nevertheless.

"LADY CARINA!" Zachariah bellows, nearly knocking over the new arrival when he charges over, mad with concern. God, not another monologue... "It would do you well to keep a better leash on that foul beast of yours, else I shall slay him with my mighty blade of justice! The vile creature practically extirpated this fair maiden and should be given a proper sentence as punishment-lest I remind you that our goal is to protect and serve our fellow students, not bury them in their graves!"

Carina merely blinks in response, either taking his opinion with a grain of salt, or having adjusted enough to his zany, over-the-top behavior as to not care anymore. "Compose yourself at once, Mister Garmont. I cannot control Icarus when his primal instincts...or, in this case, his pride, takes over."

The knight frowns at Carina's response, but ultimately redirects his attention to me out of good will. "Are you unharmed, milady? Dost thou require me to smite the villain that has threatened your saf-"

"I'm _fine_, Zachariah!" I insist, reflexively shrinking away from his touch. "Just...just let me be!" The knight, although slightly crestfallen, complies to my order with a firm nod. If only he were like that more often instead of always running his mouth all over the place!

"Guys, what did I just tell you about trying to not fight?" Ricard sighs, his optimism not working its charms on my relationship with Zachariah. "We really need to cooperate if we're going to find a way out of the forest..."

"Hey, forget Romeo and Juliet over there!" Mana calls from her tree top abode, rolling her eyes the drama Zachariah and I present when forced together. "What I wanna know is why you're so _late_, Birdbrain!" Carina's eyes narrow into oceanic slivers when they hone in on Mana. "Cuz for someone who acts like she always has a stick shoved up her ass, you sure did take your sweet time gettin' here, y'know?"

"For your information, Miss Farveou, I was out attending to the important task you had so _intelligently _chosen to neglect." Carina chides pointedly, shaking her head in obvious disapproval at Mana's lax nature. Sensing his master's anxiety, Icarus tenses up on the falconer's shoulder. "I can see, meanwhile, that you've made much progress by lying about and squabbling among yourselves. Can you not handle two simple missions?"

_One: seek out any viable persons and return them to the base._

_Two: look for a way out of the forest._

"Whatever...I'll bet you didn't even find anything useful!" From her lofty perch, Mana is quick to dismiss the crimson-clad girl's declaration. She lies back against the mighty trunk of the tree and yawns lazily.

"On the contrary, Miss Farveou." Carina replies icily, lips pursed into a perfectly straight line. The tension in the air is so thick that not even a chainsaw can make a dent in it. "I've actually made a rather..._disturbing_ discovery concerning this area."

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?" Mana demands of her stern counterpart. From the condescending tone of voice, I'm guessing that she's calling out Carina's claim as a mere bluff or exaggeration. Either that, or Mana simply doesn't want to be bothered with the technicalities.

"Do you really want to know?" The falconer murmurs, her face going stony and unreadable. "Because I, myself, still cannot believe it-and truth be told, you all are just as likely to not believe it."

"Of course we do, Carina." Ricard carefully reassures her with a soft smile. "It would be pointless if we set out to collect information, only to not share it. Go on, don't be shy. We're all listening."

"Indeed, classmate!" Zachariah chimes in eagerly. "I, much like Sir Ricard, am curious to know what you have found during thy righteous quest! Be it a secret most conniving and evil, I shall promptly vanquish it for the good of all mankind!"

"Just spill the beans already..." Mana moans impatiently, growing bored at the suggestion of waiting. "We don't have all day, Birdbrain."

The falconer goes silent at the encouragement she receives, weighing her options and musing over them with a thoughtful mind. Then her sharp gaze lands on me and lights up. Her lips move, meticulously forming an obvious inquiry with an equally as obvious answer. Carina asks anyway.

"...And do you wish to know as well, newcomer?"

"_Yes_." My curiosity speaks for me before my better judgement can intervene. A terrible sense of dread clenches onto my heart and squeezes hard as soon as my reply is uttered. There is no time to take it back.

"Very well." The falconer nods, giving in to the request of the majority. She clears her throat on several occasions, opening and shutting her mouth at strange intervals-like she knows exactly what she needs to get out, but cannot quite select the proper phrase to convey the message. Following many hesitations, Carina takes a deep breath and delivers her big announcement.

It's as though we have reached the turning point or a major plot twist in a grand narrative, for we all hold our breaths and await the verdict and its consequences. And what a plot twist it is that we are handed and expected to deal with.

"This forest goes in circles-in other words, _forever._ There _is_ no way out."

* * *

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a young, impressionable READER. Day in and day out, the READER would lock himself away in his humble abode with stacks upon stacks of books, each speaking of a realm far fairer than the one he resided in. No one dared to approach this READER, for he claimed that he was both alone and happy. But not really. So, was this truly THE END for him? To be "alone" and "happy"? No, no, no-that would be just silly. It was not THE END. Why, it was only THE BEGINNING.**_

"Hm...I suppose that's a decent way to start the Story. Yes, I believe I'll go with this for the Magnum Opus-after all, Beginnings are rather important to the Story, and better short and concise than long and lackluster. Heaven knows how long I'd be here if I tried retelling it for the 11037th time!

"Let's see now...yes, yes, yes, the Story is proceeding as planned. The Forest has welcomed the Characters with open arms, and the Characters have begun to meet up with one another in the Forest. At this rate, Development shall occur in no time at all!

"This Story is SURE to conclude _Happily Ever After_!"

* * *

**Hello, hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Sorry for the late update, as some complications turned up on the planned publishment day-namely that my grandfather (who does not comprehend English as well as he does our family's native language) accidentally deleted the file I had for chapter 2 off of the computer. I spent an entire day trying to recover what had been lost, but ultimately had to settle for rewriting most of it, minus the parts that I could salvage from PMs I had sent to my beta readers. On the bright side, this did force me to extend or expand on scenes that I had previously been unhappy with, and the final product ended up being much more content rich that I had initially planned. I personally love sitting down and reading good, in-depth fanfiction, so hopefully this makes up for the late publishment...=u= (By the way, has anyone noticed that not ONCE has Estelle formally introduced herself to her classmates? That's not a lazy mistake on my part, it's meant to be a subtle nudge to the fact that our protagonist is very suspicious of her classmates.)**

**Since a full class roster has been obtained, I went ahead and deleted the OC submission form from both my profile and the first chapter. I recommend rereading the first chapter to anyone who hasn't already, as I have added more details to it in order to constitute for the word loss resulting from the removed OC form. It is my belief that one should publish work of both high quality and of substantial quantity, so I hope that you all like what I have added to chapter 1, though there is nothing particularly shocking or dramatically out of place.**

**Thank you to all who submitted OCs, accepted and turned down alike. Everyone was so patient with me while I was going through and reviewing OCs…Gosh, I must have gotten around twenty to thirty submissions total! The characters were generally good, so it was actually very challenging for me to narrow them down to the ones best suited for the story. To those that made it, I congratulate you and ask for you to give yourselves a grand ol' pat on the back. To those that didn't, I deeply apologize and hope that your wonderful character will make it into another SYOC. I appreciate everyone's efforts to fill in the tedious OC submission form, and thank you for your continued support nevertheless. :D**

**There is currently a poll posted on my profile page, where you can vote for up to four OCs that you'd like to have free time events with. It will be open until the last of the OCs are introduced, so you have plenty of time to decide. Choose now or choose later, when all of the characters have been formally introduced in the story. Of course, if you have an OC entered in OMMM, you're still welcome to vote for your own character, but you should vote for the others if you are genuinely interested in learning more about them. :3 (*coughcough* let's make Estelle hang out with Zachariah and Mana *coughcough* I'm sure she'll love it *coughcough*)**

**If you have any vital critiques regarding this chapter's contents/the OCs, or simply want to share your thoughts and comments with me, please let me know what you think via PM or review. If I did something wrong, inform me. If I did something right, inform me. Any feedback on my writing would greatly help me with improving and fine-tuning my skills as an author. I'm also willing to answer any questions regarding OMMM content (so long as we don't delve into potential spoiler territory), and will offer character improvement advice for anyone that wishes for help with making a rejected OC better. I wish to give back to my supporters in return for their interest in this series. =u=**

**I hope to see you all again next chapter, where we'll venture into the forest's village base and meet the next batch of four students! =7= Until then, see ya~**


	3. At the Village, Center Stage

**A quick note to the 25 people who submitted OCs for the two removed/recycled students: thank you, and congrats to those who made it! As for everyone else, welcome back to OMMM, and apologies for the recent long waits for SYOC updates. Education has been eating up all my time, but I'm still alive and will keep writing now that I am on break.**

**We shall now return to the customary character introductions. There is currently a poll on my profile so I can gauge which characters introduced thus far are the fan favorites, so feel free to fill that out after reading chapter 3. Thanks, and enjoy!**

* * *

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a delicate, sheltered PRINCESS. She lived in a castle made of glass and listened to sweet music sung by caged birds. In a way, the**_** PRIN****CESS**_** herself was also a caged bird, for she was unable to leave her castle...But because the PRINCESS was surrounded by glass, she was able to see everything going on in the outside realm.**_

_**Everything MOVING FORWARD around her while she remained, UNCHANGING. And so the deceptive bird songs continued to play on an endless loop for her. The CAPTIVE girl stayed forever on the inside looking out rather than on the outside looking in.**_

_**...Or did she?**_

_**Only TIME will TELL.**_

* * *

"Th-That _can't_ be!" I spit out, quick to counter Carina's announcement. My mind, racing a million miles a minute, conjures up several worst case scenarios. Eyes pecked out by birds, eaten by cannibals, hunted by bears and wolves, captured by a stranger, poisoned by fruit...But what she said can't possibly be true-_can_ it? "On what _basis _can you make that claim?!"

"To begin with," the falconer replies, "there are a number of things off about this forest. Surely I am not the only one who has noticed the lack of wildlife. The existence of an abandoned village in the middle of nowhere is also quite odd. Despite its lack of residents, it appears nearly untouched. Convenient as our base, but otherwise most certainly strange. This is an unfamiliar location no matter what map of England you look at.

"Then we must consider that it is quite difficult to navigate this forest. True, the trees look alike, but my sense of direction is not horrid. Several times have I looped in a circle back to base. You would think that after a while, taking a different path than before would result in proceeding to a new area. That, unfortunately, never happened. I would assume that if we continued walking, we would just wind up where we started again."

"At some point, I had Icarus scout from above to guide me. Alas, he, too, was unable to assist." Carina glances warily at her partner, who is perched on her right shoulder. "Birds of prey have vision that is up to _eight times_ sharper than that of human beings. I'm sure our resident hunter, Mister Bell, would agree with me on that point. If Icarus is fooled by this forest, then we have slim chances of outdoing it."

Ricard offhandedly nods, quietly confirming Carina's words. He looks a bit shaken by the sudden turn of events. With every passing second, more and more grimness takes ahold of Zachariah's features. Even Mana, the mercenary, looks a bit unnerved, glued to her treetop loft.

But I've_ yet_ to be convinced.

The woods have always been present in human history, casting a foreboding shadow over us. German housewives would whisper warnings to their children; warnings to keep away from Schwarzwald, the Black Forest-or else. The ones that disobeyed were often swallowed up. That is why many fairy tales feature the woods as a dreaded place of no return. _Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, Little Bridegroom, Six Swans, Jorinda and Jorinsel, Beautiful Vasilissa..._

An old wives' tale, that's all this is! No magic spells or enchantments! Just reality!

"Is that _it_?" I demand, raising an eyebrow. "Such a dire conclusion from mere conjecture and unclear evidence?"

"If you are like the rest of us," Carina coolly retorts, "then you, too, found yourself in this forest when you were /meant/ to attend Camelot Academy. No rhyme, no reason. Why not apply the same nonsense to explain our current situation? From past experience, it seems that regular logic will not help us here. Thus, we must temporarily accept abstract thinking as absolute."

"Wait-" I cry, throwing both hands up to cut the Loyal student off. My eyes dart from Carina to Ricard, Mana, and even Zachariah. "-it's the same story for _all _of you?"

"Pretty much...we're all in this together, eh?" Richard mutters nervously, scratching the back of his head. "But it's not just us five, you know."

"Yeah," Mana chimes in, "I told you this 'fore. There's a good number of students back at base. Probably sixteen in all if we include you, Bubbles."

_Camelot_ students. Sixteen of them? Elites; more and more Elites, gathered in a strange, surreal forest that never ends. It sounds like something out of a twisted fairy tale-but this isn't fiction, it's reality.

"That's suspicious!" I declare, my voice strained and squeaky, "That's so _clearly_ suspicious! It's _too_ much of a coincidence, having so many Camelot students in one place! Th-This is obviously a serial kidnapping!"

"Serial kidnapping?!" Zachariah exclaims, eager to give his two cents, "Surely not, milady! No one would dare attempt that in this day and age! The press! The police! They would all be abuzz!"

"A _good_ criminal would, of course, /hide/ his wrongdoings from the public!" I point out, baffled that the Elite /Knight/, of all people, was the one questioning what was and wasn't appropriate in the modern era. "Whoever's behind this purposefully targeted Elites, so they'd _have_ to be craftier than usual to get away with it. Look, we were probably /drugged/ somehow and then _hauled_ to someplace where no one would ever think of looking for us! That's likely why our kidnapper is letting us just roam freely!"

At this point, I'm visibly shaking and taking deep breaths. My desperate attempts to keep calm only add to the uncomfortable silence that follows. It's mutual acknowledgment of a very real possibility-but it doesn't last very long.

Naturally, a certain _someone_ decides to break the ice.

"Comrades!" Zachariah declares, voice booming over the quiet of the forest, "Let us be off! No good shall come of standing and the twiddling of thy thumbs!" He flashes a cheeky grin to the rest of us. It is, I suppose, an attempt to keep our spirits high. The encouragement, however, having come from Zachariah, does nothing to help my morale. This is not the case for the others.

"Charming there has a point," Mana agrees, shimmying down her tree with grace. She bounces over to rejoin the group. "Maybe you guys're worried 'n all, but I sure ain't. I can defend myself if any bozo comes flyin' at me."

"Now, Lady Mana," Zach says sternly, folding his arms across his chest in disapproval, "there's no need to-"

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah_," the mercenary grumbles dismissively and rolls her eyes, "Leave the fighting to _you _or whatever. Women and children shouldn't have their blood spilled, _yaddah, yaddah, yaddah._ Just spare me the long speech, will ya?" She, too, sounds fed up with his crazy spiels.

"Excellent! I'm glad we understand each other!" Zachariah beams, turning back to me. Optimism oozes from every pore of his pretty boy body. "See? There is nothing to fear, milady! No harm shall befall you on /my/ watch! I swear this upon my honor as the Elite Knight!"

"Of course," I sigh, openly grimacing at his corny promise. Mana and Zachariah aren't called Courageous for nothing. "And just what do you propose we do then, oh _great_ and _powerful_ savior of mine?"

"I have absolutely _no_ idea!' Zachariah admits, still wearing a wide, dumb smile. _He __**really**__ didn't think this through at all, did he?_ I resist the strong urge to chew him out for his idiocy. On either side of the knight, Mana facepalms and Ricard laughs anxiously.

"A-hem!" Carina clears her throat, drawing all eyes to her. "If I may make a suggestion, Mister Garmont..."

"But of course, Lady Carina!"

"Yes, well...I propose that we return to base for now. It seems pointless to carry on with our investigation at the moment, and the others are likely waiting for us to report back. We may worry them if we are away for too long." The falconer's piercing eyes shift toward me. "Our newcomer here might also appreciate some proper food and shelter."

"I suppose I might as well," I groan, having very few options left. _Honestly, anything is better than what I've already been through today._ Chased by a knight, taunted by a mercenary, almost shot by a hunter, attacked by a falcon... "Lead the way to wherever it is that we're going."

"You mean get lost first and then find our way back where we started for the umpteenth time?" Mana asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Cuz we seem to be _really_ good at doing that."

"Uh, what Mana _means_ to say is that if we keep walking one way, we should get back to base eventually." Ricard explains slowly, as though a hesitant student in a classroom. "Anyway, it's good to have you with us, miss...?" The Kind student's voice trails off when he realizes that he doesn't know who I am.

"Ah, that's right...you have yet to introduce yourself to us, newcomer." Carina points out, quickly catching on. Icarus nods in agreement with his master. Smart bird she has there.

"Milady!" Zachariah chimes in, eyes sparkling that that of a child in a candy store, "Might you at last inform us of your precious name and title?" I instinctively step away from him, restoring my circle of personal space.

"Was that adjective _really _necessary?!" I sputter, glaring at the incompetent Elite-what an oxymoron!

"Precious? _Of course_ it is!" Zachariah insists, "A name is but one's entire identity, the essence of one's existence on this mortal plane! Think of the hours and hours your parents must have spent pondering and pondering the single name to be bestowed upon their blessed child! You should be proud of it, eager to shout it to the world! Would you, perchance, like myself to demonstrate?!"

"...What?" is all I can manage to say.

"Zach means _well_," Ricard interjects, ever the peacemaker, "He just tends to go overboard with-"

"That's still _not_ a good excuse!" I cry, sending the Elite Hunter recoiling back.

"Com'on, Bubbles!" Mana prompts impatiently, not giving Ricard the chance to complete his defense, "Time is money, and you're doing a great job eatin' mine up right now!"_ Says the one who didn't bother doing her scouting task..._

"Stop calling me_ Bubbles_!" I demand, no longer willing to tolerate any antics-and _especially_ not Mana's. If I correct her, then perhaps the nicknaming will cease. A torrent of fuming mad words, presumably an introduction, floods out. "I'm _Estelle,_ Estelle Malgosia, Elite Mythologist of the Wise Class-and I DESERVE some respect!"

A moment of silence elapses.

Then...

"Welcome to the family, _Bubbles._" Mana chirps, a sly grin spreading across her entire face. She then proceeds to give me a good clap on the back. My spine doesn't snap in half, but it feels as though it might as well have.

Oh yes, I just feel _so _welcome.

* * *

Nothing all that eventful occurs on our trudge to the so-called "base" of the Elites. Some forced conversation here and there, the occasional nickname or weird remark...the usual for this rag-tag group. Well, there WAS the one awkward moment when Zachariah declared he could (and _would_) piggyback someone, but the offer was collectively shot down.

Sooner than later, something comes up in the distant horizon-a sizable wall of stone blocks and turrets, boasting only a single archway for further progression. Beyond that, a there were meandering streets and a smattering of cottages in various shapes and sizes, thatched roofs and all. Some homes, some selling wares, I would presume, judging by the flags and shop signs hanging outside some buildings.

At last, the village and apparent base of operations.

Passing through the front gates, I feel as though I have stepped into a hamlet straight out of the medieval era. I'll admit that I am no expert in architecture, but it certainly does feel as though I've been transported back in time. The buildings don't feel real, the air too fresh, the entire area too colorful...like an uninhabited illustration from a picture book. In that moment, high and euphoric in the middle of the village, I forget about possible kidnappings and my classmates' weirdness.

"Amazing," I breathe, rushing past my travel companions to get a better view of the village interior, "simply amazing!"

"She's impressed by the lack of trees," Mana groans, mockingly face palming, "Bubbles has _really_ lost it now."

"Most people _would_ be if they're not used to the wilderness," Ricard explains lightly, earning a pout from the mercenary. She grumbles something along the lines of_ buzzkill _under her breath. "I-I'm sorry if I offended you, Mana!"

"Ah, true friendship! Is there nothing more satisfying?" Zachariah laughs heartily, completely ignorant of the strained conversation. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.

"Yes, yes, Mister Garmont," Carina sighs, quickly dismissing Zachariah's annoying cheer. She then turns to address me, "Well, it's good that you approve of the area, because this will be our place of residence until we can gather further information on our whereabouts. I trust that you have no complaints?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," I confess, brightening up a bit. Maybe, just _maybe_ this wouldn't be so horrible after all. At least I have shelter and safety in numbers. "It looks like there's a lot to explore. I'm actually quite excited to see what this village has to offer."

"Indeed, it would do you good to get acquainted with your new surroundings-perhaps introduce yourself to the remainder of your classmates along the way," Carina agrees, "but the village is quite big, and can be confusing to navigate on your own for the first time." Her sharp eyes suddenly perk up as the light bulb goes off in her head. She whips around to Ricard, Carina, and Zachariah.

This is when my stomach begins to churn in fear.

"Which one of you is willing to show Miss Malgosia the village?" Carina inquires, raising an eyebrow. Icarus attempts to copy his master by cocking his head to the side. "I would do it myself, but I need to make my rounds and report back to the other students."

The stomach churning intensifies. I realize that I have a two-thirds chance of ending up with an unsavory character for the day. Even worse? The one _tolerable _person of the trio isn't likely to assert himself in the face of the other two. Great, just _great._

Zachariah (of course) immediately throws an arm into the air and declares, "Oh, I volunteer myself for this task, Lady Carina! Please allow me the honor of escorting the fair maiden around the vicinity!"

I cringe. _Oh __**god**__, not him. Anybody but him!_

The falconer, luckily, casts Zachariah a distasteful look, surprisingly silencing him. "Mister Garmont, your voice is dreadfully loud." At this, Zachariah slumps a little, like a rejected puppy while Carina steamrolls on, "Do at least allow Miss Farveou and Mister Bell to state their opinions before you go charging in to the conversation."

"Not interested," Mana says quickly, flashing me a saccharine smile. I frown back, knowing fully well that this is a win-win situation for her. She gets to slack off, and I have a higher probability of getting shackled to Zachariah.

And no, I do not think that using the phrase _shackled _is an exaggeration.

Carina purses her lips, but does not remark on the mercenary's reply. She must figure it would be a waste of energy to argue with one as stubborn as Mana, so she instead proceeds to address Ricard. "And you, Mister Bell?"

"Of course. Friends should help other friends out," Ricard shrugs, causing me to breathe a sigh of relief. I'm so ecstatic that I don't even bother to remind him that I hardly know anyone here, much less consider them _friends._

But then comes the line that crushes all of my hopes and dreams.

"I _would _offer to show Estelle around myself," Ricard continues, "but I feel like she might benefit more from having Zach as her tour guide." The knight perks up at the mention of his name and presents Ricard with a wide grin. Meanwhile, I visibly deflate.

"What?" I gape at the Elite Hunter, still processing the words that had just left his mouth. He smiles anxiously, but offers nothing more than-in my opinion-a vague, flimsy explanation. "Why would you..."

"I don't think you guys get along very well." Ricard admits, repeating something that has already been _well _established, "If we're going to make it out of this forest together, we'll need to effectively cooperate. The first step toward that is trusting one another and being friends. Right?"

Curse Ricard and his...his _kindness!_

"I'll be fine on my own!" I argue, scrambling around for an excuse, even total _crap_ ones, "Really, I can go by myself! I insist! I-I know my directions, I can differentiate north from south and east from west! I can read shop signs and remember where I have and haven't been been! I'll go _alo-_"

I don't get to finish my pack of lies. Something-or _someone_-blitzes by, nearly knocking me over in the process.

Another Elite.

"GUYS! How long have you been back?!" the new student demands of my travel companions, arms entrapping them in a group hug. In the midst of all the commotion, Icarus screeches and takes off, perching on a nearby roof. "You were taking so long out there, I was gonna head out myself to track you guys down! Thank goodness you're all safe and sound, though! I would've had to noogie each of you if you hadn't come back in one piece!"

"Hard to...breathe..." Ricard coughs, gasping for a decent amount of oxygen.

"Hahahah, I missed yah too, man!" the new Elite reassures the Kind student in a rather nonchalant tone.

This stranger stands out in the group thanks to his fair appearance-long lashes, pale blue eyes, scarlet tresses of hair, and a lightly tanned complexion. Multiple bead bracelets decorate his left wrist, and his left ear is littered with piercings, the most prominent one being a simple cross on the lobe. He appears to be of a fairly normal build and sports an open charcoal blazer over a simple gray dress shirt, slacks with a faint plaid pattern, and black dress shoes. The cuffs of his blazer are of a red and white checkered design. An undone crimson tie fastened with a golden clip hangs from his neck. The clip, of course, trumpets the Camelot Academy crest.

Immediately, this particular Elite strikes me as...Courageous, falling into the same category as Zachariah and Mana. What with his waltzing around and nearly strangling other people to death. In other words, not my cup of tea.

The stranger, finally satisfied with smothering his classmates with affection, releases his victims. Everyone seems to stumble for a bit before regaining their composure, save Zachariah, who must be used to delivering this sort of cruel and unusual punishment unto others himself. Thank goodness _I_ wasn't caught in the hug of doom.

Shouldn't have spoken too soon. The stranger finally takes notice of the new girl, stepping in front of me to get a better look.

"Oh?" A large, friendly grin appears on his face. "Why hello, hello, hello there, little miss! How're ya doin' on this fine day?"

Instinctively, I duck behind the biggest lug present-Zachariah-and stare intensely at the redhead, eyes narrowed. The Elite Knight chuckles uneasily, but remains planted in his spot to act as a fleshy shield of sorts. _For once,_ I think to myself, _he's being useful._

"Not much of a talker, eh?" The redhead guesses, smile still plastered on, "That's fine!" His eyes meet Zachariah's, and he jokes (or at least I _hope _he's joking), "Hey, where'd you find such a cute girlfriend, Zach? I want one, too!"

From behind Zachariah, I suddenly feel his entire body tense up-rather uncharacteristic of him, since he always seems bold and optimistic. I gaze up at him in confusion. For a moment, I swear I could have seen a look of distress cross his face; an amalgamate of sadness, anger, and regret. But it must have been the light playing tricks on me-after all, this is Zachariah we're talking about.

"Milady was found in the woods, as we all were," The Elite Knight quickly brushes off the joke with a strained scoff, quite unlike his usual booming laughter. "And of course, we have no such relationship. I am but a mere vessel that exists solely for the safety and protection of others." (Says the one who was ardently pursuing girls in the woods...)

"I still ship it," the redhead chirps, not paying attention to Zachariah's monologue at all.

"Forget it, Charming," Mana groans, resting a hand on her forehead, "Space Case is a lost cause. Might as well save your breath and quit while you still can."

"Know what else I ship, Mana? You and me!" the redhead cries, winking at the mercenary. "Though I personally ship myself with _everyone_-even if I don't swing that way-cuz why limit your options? You should life to it's fullest! _Carpe diem!_"

Mana pales to a ghostly white. "Alright, screw this! I can't handle another second of you, Space Case! Go flirt with some other chick!" And with that, she darts off at the speed of light, leaving everyone else to deal with the new Elite.

"Uh, I don't think Mana appreciated that very much..." Ricard pipes up. Zachariah nods in silent agreement. As for me, I don't dare budge from my safe hiding spot. It is Carina who decides to chew out the redhead.

"Mister Caldwell,_ where_ are your manners?" The falconer calmly scolds the stranger, clearly disapproving of his behavior. "You should _not_ prance around _dallying_ with women, and especially not if you haven't even bothered to introduce yourself first!"

"Aw, don't be such a stick in the mud!" he pouts, folding his arms across his chest, "I was just getting to that! Just wanted to have some fun first and greet all my buddies, ya know?"

"Introduction, Caldwell. _NOW_." Carina commands, her eyes as deadly as Icarus's talons.

"Yeah, yeah." The redhead rolls his eyes at Carina, but puts on a smile when giving his name and title. "I'm Jaxon-that's Jaxon with a x-Caldwell. Elite Wayfarer of the Courageous Class! Been everywhere on my own two feet, and on occasion, my hands! Nice to meet'cha!" He sticks a hand out to shake mine. After a few moments of awkwardly hovering, unreceived, Jaxon pulls his hand back. "And you are...?"

"Estelle Malgosia. Wise Mythologist," I spit out, hoping it is good enough to drive him away. Jaxon is a bit too...daring and wild for me to hang around comfortably.

"Cool, cool!" Jaxon beams, clearly not going anywhere anytime soon. "So you study fairy tales and stuff?"

"Er...yes. Something like that."

"Sounds neat." Jaxon inches a little closer-not _too_ close, but still enough to feel weird. "Say, what do you think of the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood?"

"The wolf taught me to not talk to strangers," I reply dryly, "especially the overly friendly ones." _You know, like yourself. And Zachariah, when he doesn't feel behaving._

"Really?" Jaxon's eyes flicker with a twinkle of amusement. "Hm, that _is _the conventional way of seeing it, I guess. I personally think the wolf is just a little misunderstood."

_I don't understand where he's going with this conversation._ I'm about to open my mouth and inform the wayfarer of this, but someone else decides to interject first.

"Sir Jaxon of Caldwell," Zachariah says slowly, his voice shockingly stern, "I do believe you are making the young lady feel rather uncomfortable. I would highly recommend restoring her personal space." Oh, the irony of Zachariah, of all people, telling Jaxon that...

"I get it, man. Gotta stop creeping, am I right?" Jaxon laughs, throwing both hands in the air as a sign of defeat. "Anyway, welcome to the village, Estelle! I already know this place like the back of my hand, so if you ever need directions, feel free to ask me! And don't worry, I promise I don't bite!"

"Er...thanks, but no thanks," I mumble, backing up from the wayfarer. Again, I fumble in the darkness for a legitimate excuse, and go with the first thing that comes to mind. "See, this absolute GENTLEMAN here...Zachariah..." I tug on the hem of his shirt for dramatic effect, "...has already volunteered to show me around. We _really _must be off now!"

"Did he?" Jaxon inquires, glancing from his Courageous classmate to me and back.

"He _sure _did!" I cry, nudging Zachariah to sidestep away from the area with my hands. Eventually, with a perplexed expression on his face, the knight begins to stumble away from the group, "Ask Ricard if you need further confirmation!" I clarify before trailing after Zachariah.

"E-Eeeeeh? Me?!" Ricard sputters, not expecting to suddenly get dragged into the conversation. _Well, it __**was**__ his idea, right?_

"...Good luck with that," Carina mutters, patting the Elite Hunter on the back. "Icarus and I must be going. Duty calls." A shrill whistle later, the boastful falcon has returned to her shoulder, and the duo manage a quick getaway.

"Wow, everyone seems busy today, huh?" Jaxon remarks, watching our figures vanish into the distance. The last things I hear before Zachariah and I duck into a random building are, "So, what's up, dude?" and the hunter's muted reply of, "The sky; it's quite pretty today."

I guess Ricard is right about that.

The sky is a lovely cerulean blue, dusted with clouds as fluffy as cotton candy and speckled with sunshine. The village really _is _as picturesque as an image in a storybook. It's the kind of day where nothing could possibly go wrong.

Or so we_ think._

* * *

"Thanks for playing along, white knight," I grumble, hastily prodding Zachariah inside and closing the door behind us. I hadn't put much thought into _where_ exactly we were going, but anywhere was fine. "That was starting to get a little too weird for me to handle."

"But of course, milady. Anything to ensure the safety, health, and wellbeing of my fellow classmates!" Zachariah beams, his lips forming a reasonable arc for a smile rather than an excessive one. The volume of his voice has significantly dropped from outdoors to indoors. If I were to somehow forget the earlier instances of idiocy, Zachariah would seem like a decent human being at the moment.

"Whatever you say," I sigh, giving the inside of the building a cursory glance. From the looks of the shop interior, we seem to have wandered into an apothecary's. Bottled tonics and jarred herbs are arranged on shelf after shelf behind wooden counters. Thick tomes of medicinal books are stacked on one particular counter, while a lone mortar and pestle set rest on another. The air is tinged with a strong acrid aroma, reminiscent of the concoctions on display. I'm willing to bet that only a small fraction of them are actually legitimate medicine. The majority of it is probably poison, with the occasional narcotic or aphrodisiac.

"Wow, this looks like an authentic medieval apothecary's," I mutter, eyes flitting from container to container. As though of its own accord, my body naturally gravitates toward the shelves for closer inspection. Some of the bottles and jars contain things like everyday herbs, while others have rather dubious liquids of strange shades and colors. "Though from what I know about the time period, medicine from the Dark Ages wasn't all that effective. They were likely deadly poisons, or tended to make the initial problem worse than it already was."

"You'd best not be drinking any of that then," Zachariah warns, hovering over me like a chaperone-more specifically, a concerned mother hen, "Lady Carina has instructed me to guide you around the premises, not allow you to ingest toxic chemicals."

"I _won't_," I insist, continuing to browse through the assorted mixtures at my leisure, "I'm sure that no one in their right mind is dense enough to drink from a sketchy container from an even _sketchier_ shop." Alice in Wonderland's EAT ME tea cakes and DRINK ME beverage come to my mind.

It does, however, seem odd to me just how clean the apothecary's is. Why, there is not a speck of dust on anything, not even the glassware, and the potions appear freshly brewed, the ingredients just picked or pickled. So eerily clean and tidy it feels like the owner could creep in at any given moment...

"U-U-Um...actually..."

"W-Whoa!" I let out a loud yelp of alarm upon hearing a feminine voice out of nowhere. I veer around to meet an unfamiliar face peering out from the shop entrance. _How did she enter so quietly?!_

Zachariah, however, seems completely unfazed. He instead casually greets the stranger with a wave and a bright grin. "Good day!"

"H-Hello, M-Mister Garmont..." She mumbles, giving a weary semi-happy look. "W-Welcome back from your trip."

The girl standing before me has large mocha eyes, chin length bangs, and tawny locks of wavy hair down to the middle of her back. A headband with a dark blue bow is nestled among her hair, a ponytail dangling off to the side. Compared to Jaxon, she is dressed rather plainly in a simple white blouse, a pearly grey capelet with a hood, a pleated black skirt down to her kneecaps, and dark flats. Her facial expression reads like a deer in headlights when I stare, expecting her to finish her sentence.

"U-Um!" the student stammers, "Y-You see...m-many studies show that i-if given a dangerous substance through n-non-threatening or unusual means, such as though a sippy cup...there is an e-exponentially higher chance of someone willingly i-ingesting something that could be hazardous to their h-health..."

"O-kaaaaay..." I mutter, taking the information with a grain of salt, "I don't think we need to be concerned about that. It's not as though anyone has a motive to try and poison their classmates. You worry too much."

"I-I do?!" The female Elite's pupils dilate, her hands flying to cover her mouth in sheer terror. "Waaaaah, I'm sorry! I'm so, _so _sorry! Th-There's probably a 63.87% chance of you absolutely hating me noooow!"

"H-Hey, calm down!" I command the flustered girl, who only seems to get_ more_ nervous when I address her, "You might knock something over if you...hey, are you listening to me?!" She continues to mutter apologies as she teeters back and forth in frantic paces.

"Did you hear me the first time? I said...mmphfgh!"

At the last second, Zachariah firmly clamps a hand over my mouth, muting my final words. With his free hand, he brings his pointer finger to his lips, quietly instructing me to be silent. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, but do what he says-or rather, what he _doesn't_ say. It's clear that he knows the other Elites better than I do, so perhaps he can get the anxious girl to settle down somehow.

Zachariah clears his throat, catching the attention of the shaking female Elite. "Lady Maria, I believe this young woman," here, he pauses to gesture towards me, "is a member of_ your_ particular class. Perhaps you two should get acquainted with one another?"

I don't know what sort of sorcery Zachariah uses, but the knight's voice and presence seem to instantly placate the girl.

"O-Oh, you're another Wise student?" She wonders, approaching me gingerly, as though I will lash out at her if she gets too close. The girl offers a weak smile. "I-I'm Ellanora Maria Addeneil...er, but just Maria is fine...My first name is q-quite long, and 87.12% of people tire of c-constantly saying it. I'm the Elite Statistician. U-Um, I was starting to get anxious wandering a-around, so I th-thought that counting b-bottles or something would help me c-cope..." She glances at me hopefully, awaiting reciprocation. Zachariah, too, looks over, urging me to respond.

_I guess I don't have much of a say in the matter._

"I'm Estelle Malgosia, Elite Mythologist, and also in the Wise Class," I manage to cough out, unsure of how to act around such a meticulous and yet _somehow_ also slightly unstable girl.

"I-It's nice to finally have a-another girl in the Wise Class with me..." Ellanora murmurs, a bit more upbeat than she had been a few seconds prior, "the b-boys are kind of m-mean, so..."

"They can't be nearly as weird as some of the people I've met," I grumble, flashbacks of my first Elite encounter playing in my head as I eye Zachariah.

"W-Well...if you're friends with Mister G-Garmont, then y-you're a friend of mine." Ellanora quietly informs me. Her deep eyes seem to sparkle when she talks about the Elite Knight. "H-He has a good heart."

"You flatter me, Lady Maria!" Zachariah chuckles, taking the compliment with good faith.

I raise an eyebrow at Ellanora, questioning her..._unique _tastes_. Okay, seriously, what kind of black magic did the white knight use to charm her?_ Hm, how would a bad teenage romance novel phrase it? With his _dreamy_ eyes? Or with his _chiseled_ features? Ugh, it makes me feel sick just _thinking_ about it! On second thought, maybe Zachariah just _see_ms like a better individual in comparison to the (apparently _mean_) Wise boys she knows.

"He's okay," I say, just to indulge Ellanora. _Only when he's not monologuing to the world or shouting about his chivalry... _"But we're just acquaintances."

"Oh, I don't deserve nearly this much praise!" Zachariah laughs, obviously taking my generic comment in the best way possible, "'Tis all but a day's work for an honorable knight such as myself!" He puffs out his chest a little, proud of his own accomplishments.

All of a sudden, the conversation is cut off by a low, obnoxious growl.

"E-Er..." Ellanora stammers, gaze drifting over to Zachariah, "w-was that you, Mister G-Garmont?"

"'Twas not I, Lady Maria." The Elite Knight replies, a look of confusion crossing his face.

"I-It wasn't me, e-either..."

"I see."

"Th-Then..." Ellanora slowly turns to me, but recoils a bit upon making eye contact. She wrings her hands nervously, unable to complete her thought.

"It was me, alright?" I confess, guilty as charged. My cheeks flush bright pink in embarrassment. "I'm hungry! So _what_?!"

We three stand there, allowing a concentrated silence to soak up the already dead air of the apothecary's. Ellanora starts fidgeting uncomfortably, while I'm too self-conscious to say much else. Of all times to exhibit hunger, why _now_?

"Worry not, milady!" Zachariah pipes up, the awkwardness of the situation not penetrating his thick skull.

He cheerily grabs my arm, and doesn't bother to remove it when I bristle from his unwelcome touch, instead dragging me toward the door. The knight whips around to holler a farewell to Ellanora before exiting with a flourish. Of course, he is too strong for me to resist getting pulled along with him like some abused rag doll.

I stare back helplessly at the Elite Statistician, pleading with my eyes for assistance, but all she does is timidly wave good-bye back. As the apothecary door closes with a deafening sound, I can faintly make out a mumble from Ellanora.

"W-What an odd d-duo..."

_Odd _is an understatement.

* * *

Zachariah leads me to a new shop a few buildings down the lane, Judging by the big brick oven-a masonry oven, I think it's called-in the back, this must be a bakery. Unlike the apothecary's, the shelves of the bakery are completely empty of wares, although the smell of sugar, cinnamon, and apples is present. I don't particularly care for sweets, but I still begin to salivate. I'm far too focused on the prospect of being fed to take note of the two Elites seated at one of the vacant tables.

"Ah, salutations, Lady Priscilla and Sir Lance!" Zachariah calls out, presumably to the seated students. They glance up at the same time, but wear very polar expressions. The male of the two, a baked good in one hand, scowls cruelly, while the female offers a broad, warm grin.

Lance, presumably the boy, is short and child-like with stormy grey eyes lined with deep black liner and sickly pale skin. He has a cap of deep violet hair-which can't possibly be his real color-and dresses like a silent film actor. His school uniform is purely black and white-black blazer, white dress shirt, black pants, white gloves, black loafers, and a top hat-excluding his purple tie and the golden Camelot crest on his breast pocket. Resting in his lap is a weird...wooden puppet thing. It is dressed in a fancy suit with coat tails and sports a monocle, as well as ridiculously curly mustache, a top hat, and a blank stare. Perhaps Lance, then, is a street performer of some sort?

Priscilla, the other Elite, is also short, but has a plumper body type and a rosier complexion. Her long, toffee colored hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, the ends of which resemble a dollop of whipped cream. Curled bangs that resemble cinnamon rolls frame her chubby face. Let me just say this: Priscilla really_ shouldn't_ be near a giant oven. Her choice of apparel makes her a walking fire hazard! She's practically a whirlwind of girliness in her lacey apron, poofy pink dress with puff sleeves, beribboned body, and frequent heart motifs splattered on her being. The pockets of her apron seem to be bursting with little bottles of various extracts and spices. A cutesy pair of white and pink oven mitts rests in front of Priscilla, which leaves me to think that she is the one responsible for baking Lance's snack.

"Great, the human meat shield is back," Lance grumbles, taking his unhappiness out by tearing off another piece of his pastry with his razor teeth. Bits of fruit and powered sugar drift onto his table. An apple strudel, I note, wondering to myself how it tastes. A platter of other untouched pastries sits before Lance, looking all gussied up and tempting, even the plain slices of bread.

"Ooh, and it looks like Zachie's brought a new friend with him!" Priscilla gushes, leaping up from her seat in excitement. She speaks with a slight southern drawl. "Come and join us, sweetie! You too, Zachie!" She frantically gestures for me to approach and take the empty chair across from Lance.

I make a face at the male Elite, who seems to have a mutual distrust for me. Taking notice of this, Zachariah leans by my ear and, keeping his voice down, mutters, "Better do as Lady Priscilla says. The consequences of disobeying her are...not desirable."

Having concluded his warning, the knight then prods me forward to the table despite my protests. I slide into the seat across from Lance grudgingly as Zachariah takes the chair next to me. Priscilla beams, clearly pleased with us-but out of nowhere, her expression suddenly darkens into one of alarm. Zachariah flinches, but doesn't dare move.

"Oh my goodness!" The female Elite gasps, staring directly at me. "You're so tiny and frail! Isn't she just _so _tiny and frail, Lancie?!"

"Whatever..." He sighs, taking another chomp of his apple strudel. Lance is clearly not invested in this chat. _Good, neither am I._

"You need some more meat on your bones, young lady!" Priscilla commands, taking the platter of pastries on the table and shoving it in my face. "Go on, now! Eat up-and don't you worry none, cupcake. I can always make more later!"

"Er, thank you." I say gratefully, plucking a loaf of unleavened bread off of the plate. Sinking my teeth into it, the tastes of honey and starch flood onto my tongue. Before I know it, I'm reaching for a second loaf.

Out of good will, I pass the rest to Zachariah. He hesitates, but finally decides to take a small morsel. What's with him? The knight has been visibly tense since entering the bakery.

"This is so exciting, isn't it?" Priscilla giggles, eagerly gazing at each of us. She vaguely reminds me of my own mother. "Sitting around the table and enjoying a snack like one big, happy family!"

"Pfffft, as if I'd ever associate with _you_ losers," Lance sneers, popping the last of the apple strudel into his mouth. I have to say, he doesn't look very threatening, especially given his height and the crumbs sprinkled on his face.

"Now, Lancie," Priscilla chides, wagging a finger at the smaller Elite, her voice considerably more stern, "you _know_ it's not very nice to call people names. Think about how _you _would feel if someone called_ you_ a loser."

"Hmph!" Lance doesn't bother replying, instead swiping another apple strudel off the plate. For some reason, this causes Zachariah to freeze up.

"Oh dear," Priscilla sighs, but quickly regains her sunny composure. I wonder if she inhales rainbows and lollipops for breakfast. "But speaking of names, _my_ name is Priscilla Olry, Elite Baker! I'm in the same ol' class as Zachie there!"

Without giving me a chance to refuse, Priscilla leans forward, seizes my hands, and gives them a firm shake. Somehow, I manage to choke my own name and title out in the middle of the hyperactive handshake. Lance narrows his eyes at me when I sputter out that I am in the Wise Class.

"You're Courageous?" I repeat in disbelief. A knight and a mercenary, I can understand. A wayfarer, reasonable. But...a _baker_ in the Courageous Class?

"Sure am!" Priscilla grins before turning to Lance. "Why don't you introduce yourself too?"

"You want me to introduce myself to this commoner?" He spits out the sentence as though it were a toxic bug, "Why _should_ I?"

"Sir Lance!" Zachariah cries, suddenly raising his voice abruptly, "I would highly recommend that you do as Lady Priscilla says!" There is a pause as a flash of horror falls over his face. "Lest we wish to...upset the maiden again."

"Zachie, I have no idea what you're talking about. You shouldn't say such scary things, you know-you might frighten the poor girl," Priscilla points out, denying the fear she clearly struck in the knight. "Now, Lancie, your introduction, if you please."

I expect Lance to give more sass, but to my surprise, he, too, pales upon Zachariah's reminder._ Is she really __**that**__ scary?_ I wonder, eyeballing the Elite Baker, who still wears a cheery, carefree expression. I'm not given the time to muse on the idea further, for a squeaky voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Hey-o!" The dapper puppet in Lance's lap screeches in an exaggerated country accent, jolting to life. I stare in alarm, as Lance's lips haven't moved at all the entire time. He's too preoccupied with enjoying his apple strudel to talk to me. "The name's Bert McGee, just a humble ol' farmer from out weeest! Pardon mah smelly breath, I juuuust came back from eatin' mud-covered burgers! They're 'specially tasty with Ma's recipe! I'm sure you must have had some, right, Stellie?"

"Wh-What's with your doll?!" I demand, warily eyeing Lance. "Is it possessed by a demon or something?!"

"_Excuse_ me? _Doll_?" Lance snaps back, offended by my remark. "He is _not_ a cheap plaything; he's my valuable stage partner!"

"Yeah, I'm no toy! I'm Pistachio!" the puppet declares, dropping its country accent. It pauses before adding, "No, wait! That's not it! It's M-M-Mustachiooooo Pete!"

"Quite right, Mustachio Pete," Lance agrees, speaking to his puppet as though it were a living, breathing human being. It is, at this point, that I realize what his title must be.

"I suppose you're a ventriloquist of sorts?" I guess, hitting the nail over the head. "You've been throwing your voice around to make it sound like Pete is talking, but it's really _you_." Lance is unamused by my observation.

"Well, what took yah so long to figure _that _out, dummy?" Pete demands, flailing his wooden limbs. "Introducing the one, the only, Laaaaance Hawthorn! Elite Ventriloquist and star of the Wise Class!" A pause. "Uh, hello? This is the part where you clap!"

"Rather childish of you to make your puppet say your introduction," I grumble under my breath. _So this is one of the mean boys Ellanora was talking about...honestly, he's more arrogant than anything else._

"Childish?!" Lance cries, pallid cheeks flushing red with rage, "Who are _you _to say that?! You look even _more_ childish than me! And what sort of a title is Elite Mythologist, anyway? Fairy tales and myths aren't applicable to real life, so studying them is worthless!'

"Only uncultured swine would throw mud upon the reputation of someone they have _just_ met!" I angrily retort, "And I sure as hell would rather do _anything_ over listening to your annoying doll scream all day!"

"Settle down, you two!" Zachariah begs, only to get snubbed by both of us. The argument is escalating so quickly that the knight can't keep up with our pace. "You will anger Lady Pris-"

"I _told_ you, Mustachio Pete is NOT a doll!"

"And I'm NOT a child, so take back what you said!"

"_Never!_ Why should I have to take back what is so obviously true?!"

"What?! Then I'll continue to call your precious _Pete_ a doll!"

"Stop doing that! Mustachio Pete is a nobleman that deserves the _utmost_ respect!"

"Well, I'm no kid! I'm_ leagues_ more mature than you'll ever be!"

"Why, you _little_-"

_**"QUIET, CHILDREN!"**_ A shrill voice orders, slicing through the air like a knife being wildly swung. As the command is given, the speaker slams her fists on the table with such force that its legs give way and collapse. Uneaten pastries go flying onto the ground seemingly in slow motion.

I'm so startled that it takes me a few moments to process that the owner of the voice is Priscilla, of all people, crimson cheeked and facial features contorted.

_**"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO PLAY NICELY WITH ONE ANOTHER,"**_ Priscilla says quietly, a dark smile dancing on her face.

Zachariah shrinks in his seat, flattening like bread without baking soda. A stray piece of apple pastry falls out of Lance's mouth. His lips move, but not a sound is made. I brace myself for the storm that is to come.

_This is __**not**__ going to be a good day._

* * *

"My, she's not being very agreeable, is she?

"This Estelle Malgosia character...She's not suited at all to be the Protagonist of this story. Why, she claims to be wise and mature, but the truth is that she couldn't be more foolish and child-like if she tried. Not only that, but she's haughty, snarky, cynical, and quick to judge others.

"She doubts them, the ones that stand alongside her in the Story, insists on venturing into these treacherous woods alone. If she continues like this, she will perish cold and alone. A sad story for a sad little girl.

"Let us hope that she will change for the better."

"Yes, let us hope...

"Hope..."

* * *

**Hello, hello, Danganronpa fans! =7=**

**Whew! Finally, third chapter done! This took so long...I think I'm going to go cry in the corner of relief now. Again, really sorry for the school-related delays. Please let me know how my writing and/or characterization has held up; I'd really appreciate it!**

**Thanks, and see you (hopefully) next chapter! :3**


	4. Within a Bizarre Bazaar

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a prosperous MERCHANT that made his living selling wares during his TRAVELS. One day, he came across a TREASURE CHEST brimming with GOLD and various JEWELS, nestled in the heart of a great FOREST. The MERCHANT came closer to examine the chest, and much to his surprise, it spoke to him!**_

_**"I see that you are MAN, he who has come to claim TREASURE," the chest said, "but how foolish MAN is to think that GOLD and JEWELS hold value."**_

_**"What do you mean?" the MERCHANT inquired, genuinely confused, "I toiled long and hard to make my living, and look at me today. I'm alive and doing quite well for myself."**_

_**"Foolish, foolish MAN," the chest said, "you will not realize the value of the things you take for GRANTED until you have already LOST them."**_

_**Then again...**_

_**"Maybe you didn't have anything to lose to begin with. Maybe you have...NOTHING."**_

_**Absolutely NOTHING.**_

* * *

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, _OWWW_!" Lance and I chorus in pain as Priscilla tugs on our earlobes with monstrous force. My eyes start to water furiously, and Lance clutches onto Mustachio Pete as though the puppet were a lifesaver. A dull pounding sensation has taken a hold of my mind, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but the torture being inflicted upon me. I feel like my ear is about to be ripped cleanly off of my head.

_**"FIGHTING IS MOST UNBECOMING OF NICE YOUNG CHILDREN LIKE YOURSELVES,"**_ Priscilla booms, any trace of the sweet, motherly figure she once was now gone. As if to emphasize her point, she tightens her hold on our earlobes upon finishing her sentence. I squeak in agony. Lance gnashes his teeth together, refusing to admit total defeat.

"L-Lady Priscilla!" Zachariah exclaims, jumping onto his feet. Panic is prominent in his usually cheery baritone as rushes over to us, wide eyed. "You are harming milady and Sir Lance! Please, kindly release them at once!" He extends a hand-presumably to loosen Priscilla's grip-only to get snapped at by the Elite Baker.

_**"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS, ZACH! THEY SHOULD APOLOGIZE TO ONE ANOTHER FIRST,"**_ she hisses, sending Zachariah recoiling in shock. Priscilla then veers to Lance and I with a sunny smile. "Well, what do y'all have to say to that?"

_You're __**terrifying**__,_ is what I want to reply with, but of course, I don't for obvious reasons. Instead, I mumble, "Y-Yes, Priscilla! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again!" Apparently, this is not good enough for the baker.

_**"TELL THAT TO LANCE, NOT ME,"**_ she orders, her tone deep and gruesome. Priscilla sounds like a distorted cretin, her amber eyes almost taking on a devilish crimson color to match her rage. I decide to take a hit to my pride if only to be relieved of this insanity.

"I'm sorry, Lance!" I cry out-and however insincere that is, Priscilla immediately frees me upon my utterance. I stumble a few steps forward before I manage to steady myself and take note of the destruction she has left in her wake: pastries splattered on the floor, a dismantled table, and a ventriloquist and his puppet still writhing in pain. _The poor sap…_

"And _you,_ Lancie?" Priscilla demands, addressing the fool still suffering under her deadly gaze. He shrinks, speaking in a shaky voice, but somehow manages to maintain his arrogance.

"I-I suppose there's no harm d-done...A p-peasant's opinion shouldn't be taken into too much consideration, after all-ow, ow, owwww!" Lance squirms when Priscilla applies more pressure on his earlobe. She apparently does not appreciate beating around the bush.

_**"GET TO THE POINT, SWEETHEART,"**_ the baker advises sinisterly. The only way this can possibly get _any_ scarier is if Priscilla was holding a knife to Lance's neck and threatening to slit the flesh open. I exchange a worried glance with Zachariah, whose mouth is, for once, glued shut. No one wants to risk agitating her any further.

"Fine, fine! I'm...I'm sorry! Really, really sorry, Estelle!" Lance sputters, the words crawling out of his mouth hesitantly. And with that, he, too, is freed from Priscilla's wrath. "G-Good _grief!_" He grumbles unhappily, rubbing his attacked earlobe with milky fingers. The skin is swollen, and a livid red hue.

"Looks like that's gotta hurt!" Mustachio Pete comments, trying to comfort Lance. Wait, what am I _saying_? It's just _Lance_ trying to comfort _himself_-he's too proud to admit his own thoughts out loud. The puppet, then, is a means of his self expression.

"I hope y'all don't think I'm letting ya off with just a couple 'o apologies," Priscilla warns, although with slightly less murderous intent than before, "because if so, you'd be _sorely_ mistaken!" Crap, of course it won't be _that_ easy.

_Oh no,_ I think, paling in horror_, she's not going to whack us over the head with a rolling pin, is she? Or bake us in the oven? Make me regurgitate the bread I had? _My eyes dart over to Lance to gauge his reaction, which is about on par with mine. Mustachio Pete goes limp in his hands, not having the heart or courage to stick around and sass Priscilla.

"Estelle, Lance...for your bad behavior, you will report here and bake with me tomorrow afternoon!"

"...Eh?" I stare at Priscilla, completely dumbfounded. The sentence that she has determined for us is much more _tame_ than what I had been expecting. Granted, I have very little experience with the culinary arts (and I dislike Lance), so the activity will be more excruciating than usual, but _still._ The ventriloquist must be having similar thoughts, for he turns his nose up at the prospect.

"We gotta spend time slavin' away in the crummy ol' kitchen?! You've gotta be kiddin' me!" Mustachio Pete shouts, obviously not appreciative of Priscilla not yet shoving us head first into the oven.

"Hey, I don't like it either," I grumble under my breath, earning us a stern look from Priscilla. My voice immediately dies down, and I give her my full attention.

"This is for your own good," the Elite Baker informs us, "it'll be a nice bonding experience for the both of you, I'm sure."

"_Bonding_?!" Lance and I repeat the phrase as though taste testing a cookie laced with cyanide. It appears that it _is_ possible to get us to agree on something.

"Yes, _bonding_." Priscilla affirms her words, determination blazing on her round face. "Is there an issue?"

"I don't _need_ to be friends with those below me," Lance insists, managing to speak up before I can, "I have Mustachio Pete!" _Again with the imaginary friend argument..._

"I don't see the point," I add, seconding the notion, but for entirely different reasons. It is just as possible to achieve things alone than with others. In fact, others are just obstacles and hindrances, the proverbial dragons and locked towers for a hero to overcome during his journey.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it-the '_it_' in this case bein' friendship! 'N from the looks 'o it, y'all need all the help you can get." Priscilla counters, her voice dangerously on edge, "Sometimes your worst enemy can become your best friend, but you'll never know 'less ya give it a chance!'

At this, Lance makes a face and is quick to protest. "But-"

"No '_buts_'!" Zachariah swiftly interjects, trying to avoid making the baker snap again. As he speaks, his volume continuously revs up until he has far surpassed his outdoor voice. "You will do as Lady Priscilla says and that is _**FINAL**_!"

The bakery goes nearly quiet, with only the ghostly echo of Zachariah's words bouncing off the walls ringing in our ears. For the longest time, Lance gives the knight a sharp glare, but eventually decides to yield. I'm surprised-even arrogant brats like Lance can learn to read the situation and accept the outcomes (if not somewhat grudgingly).

"Fine, fine, _whatever_," he spits out venomously. Lance soon redirects his eyes toward the crushed pastries scattered about on the floor, his grimace deepening. "What a waste of perfectly good food."

"Oh my goodness," Priscilla gasps, following Lance's gaze. Kneeling to observe the flattened baked goods closer up, she sighs, "just look at the mess I've made! I'm awful sorry for inconveniencin' y'all...I'll clean it up right away!" Clearly, she has reverted back to her giant, fluffy marshmallow self, rosy cheeks, broad smile, and all.

"Lady Priscilla," Zachariah cautiously offers, ever eager to be a good samaritan, "might you like some assistance with that?"

"Heavens no, Zachie!" the baker insists, waving away his offer. "I really must learn to control my temper better; this was my fault, so I should be the one to clean up. Please, go off 'n enjoy the lovely sunshine, will ya?" Looking around Zachariah, Priscilla beams at me. "You, as well! I'll see you tomorrow for baking!"

"Er...yes..." I mumble, still in shock of how quickly her personality made a complete 180. Moments ago, we were just having a little tea party, and now it looks as though a hurricane has passed through. A pink, lacey, beribboned hurricane called _Priscilla_, to be more specific.

I swear, these people are so unpredictable. Constantly changing, always dynamic. At least in the storybooks, I somewhat know what to expect, and even more so if I am rereading a piece. Characters in the fairy tales don't change, and they're always there for you, unlike real so-called _friends_.

My eyes drift toward the Elite Knight, who has finally seemed to relax with Priscilla's anger having subsided. For now, he's doing an excellent job of being my excuse to slip out of unsavory situations. "Zachariah and I should be on our way; we still have much of the village to see."

"Hmph! Good riddance," Lance sneers, satisfied with the turn of events. Mustachio Pete sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry at me. By my side, Zachariah tenses again, expecting another flare-up from the Elite Baker. Luckily, Priscilla is currently far too focused on tidying the bakery (and muttering "oh dear" to herself) that she doesn't quite catch his not-so-nice remarks.

_Thank goodness..._

...And touché, Lance.

_Touché._

* * *

"How is your earlobe?" is the first thing Zachariah says upon our exiting the bakery. He glances at the body part in question, then searches my face for any lingering agony.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask '_how art thou?_' or something weird like that," I murmur, avoiding the topic. If there is one thing that I utterly loathe, it is being pitied or looked down on.

"Yes, well...my manner of speech can be rather grandiose and old-fashioned at times!" Zachariah admits, "'Twould be less of a strain for our classmates if I kept it to a minimum, would you not agree?"

"How generous of you," I droll, rolling my eyes. For someone who uses big words and complicated sentence structure, he doesn't seem to have a lot of common sense.

"Thank you!" The Courageous student pauses before inquiring a second time, "So, how is your earlobe?"

"It's fine," I insist, backing up from the bombastic knight in case he tries to pull another antic. I think I need a break from meeting all these crazy Elites, so I make a suggestion. "I'll just walk around outside leisurely for a while. I want to relax after what has just...transpired."

"If that is what you wish, milady!" Zachariah cries, beaming enthusiastically. Of course, he has no objections and is happy to comply. _Not like anyone was expecting anything less..._

And so, we begin to make our way down the lane. Zachariah trails behind-and I swear, if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now. _He really __**is**__ like a happy-go-lucky guard dog...but _I can't really tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

We weave in and out randomly like lost souls for a while-at least until a haunting thought strikes me after viewing multiple homes.

"Odd," I note, staring at a row of nearly identical cottages. They are completely uninhabited and all boast of the same wooden signs hanging over their doors. **NOT ENOUGH EXP**, they read. EXP? An acronym or abbreviation of some sort? What could that possibly mean?

I skid to a stop, tossing a glance over my shoulder at Zachariah. "Have you got any idea what these are?" I demand, jabbing a finger at a sign hanging overhead. "Every house here seems to have one. Is this a secret code for something?"

Zachariah frowns slightly, tilting his head to one side. "I would assume it simply means those buildings are simply not accessible. When we first came across the village, we attempted to explore every nook and cranny, but these particular areas are locked up." Raising a hand, he smashes his fist against the door of the building I'm pointing at, but it doesn't budge one bit. "You see? Quite sturdy." His hand then nonchalantly retreats.

"_Very_ sturdy," I agree, staring in shock-not at his use of force to prove his point, but at the strength of the door. What is it made of, reinforced steel? "You would think with this many cottages, someone would live here, but this place is totally deserted."

"Yes, strange indeed. Perhaps a tragedy of some sort caused the villagers to flee elsewhere?" Zachariah guesses, but it seems unlikely.

Wouldn't a big disaster damage the buildings and ruin all the wares? The apothecary is fully stocked, and the buildings look worn with time, but otherwise untouched. Hell, some of the cottages have plots of farm land, chock full of ripe fruits and vegetables. It feels like the homeowners just mysteriously up and left everything behind, even though they seem to be rather prosperous.

"Oh well. It's not my problem." I concede, giving up on the matter for the time being. I can't handle much more stress after what I've already endured-and why ruin such a beautiful day? There's still so much to see and do in this little village, far, far away from the troubles of everyday life. "We're fortunate this place is vacant, so better not to push our luck or jinx ourselves."

Confusion crosses Zachariah's face. Obviously, the Elite Knight is concerned with our situation and wants it resolved. His mouth flies open-presumably to inform me that I should care _more_-but I resume walking again without waiting for Zachariah's response...

...Only to crash straight into a pole. Well, at least I _think_ it's a pole-until I realize it's a little too warm and squishy to be anything but human. At once, I yelp and jump back out of instinct. It's not my best decision, since I end up ramming into Zachariah's torso. This only makes me, again, squeak in terror and stumble a little forward, now giving me a clear view of the "pole" I had bumped into.

In my defense for mistaking an Elite for a pole, 1) he's taller than even Zachariah, and 2) he's wearing even less color than Lance was, so he could have easily been mistaken as part of the backdrop. It's challenging to see exactly what this fair, freckled Elite is wearing because a giant grey smock covers up most of his body. I can make out a white dress shirt, long grey pants, and black loafers, but not much else. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, emphasizing his broad shoulders and evident muscles. In one free hand, he casually carries a grey blazer, no doubt dubbing the weather too warm for a shirt, a jacket, and a thick smock. Maybe removing the grey bandanna coiled around his forehead would also help cool him down.

Contrary to his muscular appearance, the stranger, with his coffee colored hair neatly slicked back, boasts of angular, neon green eyes that radiate a sense of laxness. I quickly divert my gaze in case the Elite accuses me of impolitely staring. Instead, all he does is awkwardly mumble one phrase.

"Ah...hi." The Elite shoves his hands into his pockets, not knowing what else to do. He seems relatively relaxed for his bulky body, and not much one for conversation. "...New?" He inquires, presumably addressing Zachariah, as he shifts his ocular focus away from me.

"Yes! Milady, your introduction, if you please!" Zachariah grins, prodding me forward with a hand. I shoot him an irritated look, but quickly go through my name and title anyway.

"Estelle Malgosia. Wise Mythologist. Nice to meet you or whatever..." I grumble before going quiet. Just when I think I'd finally get some _peace and quiet,_ here I am, meeting _another_ student!

"...Cado. Cado Stone," the Elite replies, his eyes softening, "Blacksmith...from the Loyal Class." Cado then decides to settle back into silence, which means we stand there for a couple of seconds just staring at each other. This gives Zachariah the opportunity to take the lead in the conversation, as per usual.

"Sir Cado, what might you be up to?" the knight inquires, following the Loyal student's lazy gaze toward a shop display.

"Window shopping. Kind of," Cado explains in the fewest words possible. He points to the giant slabs of meat suspended from the ceiling. This building must be the butcher's. "Just fun to see...what they have. Maybe come back and grab some...to cook for lunch. People must be getting hungry."

He gestures toward another building a little ways down, which has a similar structure. "That one is...the candlestick maker's. Can probably use anything we find there, too...mostly wax, though. And a few tools."

"That sounds most excellent!" Zachariah chirps, "you are rather resourceful, Sir Cado! Be proud of yourself!" _He sure does like to pile on the compliments, huh?_

"Proud...?" Cado repeats, an anxious smile forming on his lips, "I guess I can try my best...Wouldn't want to disappoint anyone depending on me..." The blacksmith peers over at me and says, "Please...let me know if I can...help in any way...so I can make myself useful."

"Do not speak like that!" Zachariah laughs heartily, slapping a hand on Cado's back. "You are always useful, my good man! Have more confidence!" The Courageous student stares at me expectedly, hoping for me to chuck another compliment in to boost Cado's self-esteem and morale.

"Yes, you're very practical," I manage to mutter. _As opposed to most of the other insane people I've met today, _I silently add. Cado nods, humbly swallowing the comment. Once I have played my part, I ask of Zachariah, "Can I go now?"

"M-Milady! That is no way to end a conversation!" the knight sputters, displeased with my abrupt question. Cado, on the other hand, doesn't seem fazed. He either must be used to listening rather than speaking, or he just doesn't feel like questioning anything. Probably both, I'd say.

"Well, what's the point of standing around and talking?" I demand, working my way around Cado, "It got me in trouble the last time I tried!" _Got me landed in one afternoon of bonding, too._

"Dost thou not enjoy the act of conversing with thy comrades?!" Zachariah sputters, slipping back into his usual manner of speaking. I ignore him and continue plowing forward, determined to go about a normal remainder of the day. When the knight realizes that I don't plan on stopping anytime soon, he heaves a sigh, says a quick apology and farewell to Cado, and pursues me.

"Guess I'll see you guys later..."The blacksmith stares absentmindedly after us, not showing any signs of being offended.

You know who_ is_ actually offended? Zachariah.

"You should answer properly when someone speaks to you!" the knight cries, leaping in front of me to block my path, "And never, ever announce disinterest in a-"

"What would that accomplish?" I snap back, darting around him, "Pointless chatter is _pointless chatter, _no matter how hard you try to play if off as deep and meaningful!"

"How can you possibly think like that?!" Zachariah counters, stubbornly pursuing me. It seems I cannot shake him off, despite my countless efforts. "Does companionship mean nothing to you?!"

"Perhaps it did _once_," I spit out bitterly. I can't bring myself to say any more than that. Zachariah doesn't need to know about my personal business-and he certainly doesn't need to know about...

_**"...Mama? ...Papa? Where are you?"**_

_**"I'm scared. I wanna go home..."**_

_**"Please let me go! Please, please, please!"**_

_**"N-No...I don't want this..."**_

_**"I don't want this!"**_

...about _that._

Definitely, definitely _not._

_That was a long time ago_, I remind myself. _No one needs to hear about it, especially not Zachariah. I don't need anyone's comfort or pity. Just keep walking, don't turn around, don't make eye contact, don't let him see your eyes watering, make up an excuse!_

"I'm just not good at making friends or talking to people in general," I say truthfully enough, "And I don't care to continuously try-and fail-at it."

But Zachariah doesn't know when to give up, unlike Carina. Again, he becomes a roadblock before me. Glaring up at him, I expect another quarrel to commence. We just don't see eye-to-eye, and not just because of height discrepancies. Like oil and water, constantly naturally battling it out, even if one wants to mix and the other doesn't.

"You will meet the remainder of the Elites, milady," Zachariah announces, clearly not taking _no_ for an answer, "and you will make friends."

"_Make me_," I immediately retort-only to regret it a few seconds later.

"Very well then," Zachariah replies, a twinge of annoyance upon his face. He heaves a sigh and mutters something along the lines of, "I apologize in advance for this."

"Wait, what are you talking a-_W-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING_?!" About halfway through my inquiry, the knight nonchalantly hoists me up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He firmly clamps a hand over my back to minimize my struggling-and trust me, I'm struggling as much as possible.

"Let us be off in search of friends," Zachariah suggests cheerily, ignoring my attempts to kick him in the chest and punch him in the back of the head. I'm likely not dealing much damage to him, so I decide to voice my protests. Gathering up all the strength I can muster, I shout one thing at the top of my lungs.

"I'M GOING TO _**KILL**_ YOU, ZACHARIAH!"

* * *

The imbecile knight strikes gold in the village square. I see not one, not two, but_ three_ Elites roaming around the area once Zachariah sets me down. Technically, they're not bunched together in one group, but I still have to meet three consecutive strangers. Trying to run from the situation, however tempting it sounds, is futile, given that Zachariah is now watching me like a hawk.

_I guess I'm a trapped rat._

"Go on, milady," Zachariah coaxes, gesturing towards the nearest Elite, who seems to be fixated on an elaborate water fountain in the middle of the square. "Please do not make this any harder than it needs to be. I promise that he will be easy to talk to. Sir Endi is a gentleman."

"Easy for _you_ to say," I mutter under my breath. He wasn't the one who was _manhandled_ into any unwanted social interaction.

The Elite by the fountain, Endi, suddenly perks up, apparently having picked up on our hushed conversation a few feet away. He glances at Zachariah and I, his eyes lighting up in recognition at the knight. Smiling anxiously, Zachariah takes me by the shoulders and steers me toward the fountain.

It's difficult to tell Endi is a definite male, because he sports a slim build and has a rather feminine hairstyle-jet black locks hovering just above his shoulders. The left side of his face is partially obscured by his long bangs, deep blue eyes peeking through his curtain of hair. On the other hand, he wears a more masculine school uniform-a button down white shirt, a black jacket with brass buttons, and formal pants and shoes. As we get closer and closer to the Elite, I notice that he is fiddling around with his fingers.

"Hello," he greets us before proceeding to introduce himself. "I'm Endi Amos, a craftsman in the Kind Class. You must be a new student, right? I have a pretty good memory, so I'm sure I'd remember your face if I saw you before."

"You are most correct, Sir Endi!" Zachariah exclaims, pushing me a little forward with a hand. The knight purposefully raises his voice so that the two more distant Elites can hear him. They glance over hastily, but quickly return to whatever it is they were previously doing. "This is milady Estelle Malgosia, Elite Mythologist of the Wise Class!" He gives me a look as though to say, _Go on! Make some friendly chatter!_

"I...uh...like reading." I say lamely, staring at my feet in embarrassment. The conversation is obviously not flowing naturally-at least on my part.

"I guess that makes sense. You study myths, after all. As for me, I like making stuff-anything really, so long as I can use my hands. Lets me be creative," Endi nods, quickly taking to the topic. Either he's being patient with my awkwardness or he's too air-headed to notice the awkwardness in the first place.

"Er..." _Crap, crap, crap! I already ran out of things to say! _"N-Nice weather we're having!" I anticipate getting laughed at for bringing up such a generic thing, but Endi just laughs good naturedly.

"Yes, I suppose it is quite nice," Endi remarks, smiling politely, "I personally think this is pretty, too." He points to the base of the water fountain, which is extremely elaborate and decorative, with a clamor of people running in circles. In the center of the fountain is a detailed statue of an androgynous figure in robes, a blindfold over the eyes and water flowing out of her cupped hands and eye sockets. "The art here seems to tell a story."

"Really?" I stare at Endi, dumbfounded. "But you can't have a story without words."

"Not necessarily," the craftsman replies, shaking his head. He crouches down by the fountain and motions for me to do the same. I sigh, deciding to humor Endi if it will hasten ending the conversation. Zachariah soon joins us-probably to make sure I pay attention.

"Look at these carvings." Endi says, tracing the outline of a person with his fingers. "Notice how they run clockwise, and how this base is split into sections vertically? It resembles a comic strip in style.

"The story must start here, where there are the most figures. They might be representative of villagers. These abstract shapes around them are trees and cottages, I think.

"Now, as you keep going clockwise, there are less and less people, and more and more terror. Burning cottages, dying livestock, wilting plants, villagers dropping dead from disease...And then there's this shadow in the background that constantly grows with each frame, almost like it's feeding off of the misery of others.

"You can see here that there are only six of the villagers left. They're banding together and standing up against the shadow looming above. Then the story seems to end there, because we end up back at the beginning panel, with a full cast of people again.

"This might be a clue about what happened to the people in the village before we came here. I mean, this fountain must have some significance if someone went to the trouble of making it this detailed. Plus, it's in the middle of the village square. The water fountain is definitely trying to tell us the story of this place."

"That's a pretty vague story if I've ever heard one-and trust me, I've heard a lot," I mumble, finding it hard to believe. Zachariah shoots me an incredulous look, so I quickly amend it to, "Uh, I mean...that's an _interesting_ take on it."

"Well...it's fine if you don't agree with me. I'm just running my mouth. Guess the beauty of this place is getting to me. I like taking time to appreciate the little things in life." Endi says, shrugging as he stands back up.

"Truth be told, I got excited when I found the village square." He points toward a collection of stands lining the area. "It looks like an open door market is set up, but it was kind of a disappointment, 'cause all the stalls are closed, and nothing's up for sale. Makes me wonder why they're here in the first place. The water fountain ate up my attention after I realized no one was coming to sell things.

"Oh, but I probably bored you out of your mind with all my talk of art. Really sorry about that."

"Not at all," I lie, ecstatic that the talk is dwindling. This is my excuse to get out of the conversation-and out of the strangely empty bazaar. "It was just _lovely_ to meet you."

"Same," Endi replies, not registering my gushing as disguised sarcasm. "I'm off to explore some more. Please, do have a good day."

"Ahahaha, you too..." I force a laugh, waving as the craftsman goes on his way. Once Endi is out of sight, I allow myself to slump and breathe out a deep sigh. "That was tiring," I complain to Zachariah.

"Companionship is rewarding," the knight insists, somewhat satisfied with my performance. He pauses, taking the time to contemplate his next move. "Hm...I believe you would be uncomfortable with myself carrying you from place to place. Let us make a bargain. Approach the remaining Elites and introduce yourself peacefully, and I shall escort you the housing accommodations to rest."

A place to rest? _Finally!_ I thought he'd never ask!

"Sounds like a plan." I veer around to where the two other Elites had previously been standing, only to find both missing. "Eh? Where did they..."

_**"SURPRIIIIIIIISE!"**_

* * *

Two voices ring in my ears in unison, quite possibly blowing up my eardrums.

"Hah! Did I scare ya?" The male of the Elite duo snickers, relishing at my frightened reaction. It feels like the _millionth_ time today that I've been either cut off or nearly scared to death-and I don't appreciate it. "Yup, I definitely scared ya! Hehe, you look _way_ wound up, new girl!

The rude Elite has short, spiky auburn hair and dark grey eyes that glint with danger. Like Jaxon, he has a tanned complexion, but like Cado, he is also slightly muscular. His outfit doesn't look like a typical school uniform-if anything, his brown cloth shirt, trousers, leather boots, and animal hide vest more resemble casual attire. He sports long, fingerless black gloves, as well as a red sash and neckerchief, making him appear rather suspicious in my eyes. A strange piece of rolled up parchment paper is held close to his waist by his crimson sash.

"Her name's _Estelle_, Michael! I mean, didn't you hear Zach introducin' her to Endi?" the female Elite points out, "She's in your class!" _Ah, so __**he's**__ the other jerk Ellanora was talking about._

The girl that speaks up is on the pale, skinny side, with sky blue eyes and stringy black hair down to the middle of her back. Her short, deep blue gown is covered in stars of various shapes and sizes and has wide sleeves. She also wears yellow stockings and a pair of dark blue Mary Janes, as well as a silver star-shaped clip in her hair. In her hands is a baton or staff of some sort, a dark navy-violet hue scattered with specks of glitter, silver ribbons, and topped off with a big star.

The female Elite makes eye contact and displays a huge smile, posing with her staff. "Hiya, hiya! I'm Nissa Marigold, Elite Illusionist from the Kind Class! Don't you worry about grumpy ol' Michael here, he'll treat you better with time. Promise!"

"Just cuz she's Wise doesn't meant she gets treated any differently," Michael clarifies, looking me up and down. "Hmph, doesn't look like you have anything valuable on ya. Too bad; I wanted to show off my swiping skills. Was already pretty bored cuz none of the shopkeeps are around to see me take their stuff. Bazaar's empty, too."

"Excuse me, _what_?" I demand, but Michael just clams up, putting both hands in the air to claim innocence. His grey eyes sparkle in mild amusement.

"Sir Michael of Jagner is the Elite Bandit, milady," Zachariah explains, his gaze trained on Michael as he speaks, "so sleights of hand are his specialty."

"Hehe, wouldn't _you_ know, pretty boy?" the Wise boy grins mockingly. "Cuz I stole your _special something _earlier today, 'n you didn't notice 'til you were about to leave to explore the woods!"

"Uh, was it really worth it?" Nissa inquires worriedly, her happy expression temporarily becoming one of concern. "Zach was about to pummel you for stealing it! Must've taken at least _twelve_ of us to hold him back! That was _not_ a good time."

"And that is _exactly_ why I am keeping my eye on Sir Michael," Zachariah reassures the thief and illusionist, "because I cannot afford having it taken from me again." He clenches a fist over his heart, but does not bother to elaborate.

"Must be worth a lot if you'd resort to violence for it," I note, wondering what exactly Michael had stolen from the knight. I'm having a hard time picturing an enraged Zachariah, since I've only seen him unrealistically optimistic and cheery.

"Nah, just a crummy ol' antiquey thing," Michael grumbles somewhat dejectedly, "not really worth anything in terms of cash, so I gave it back right away. 'Course, not gettin' beaten up was an added bonus."

"It has _sentimental value_!" Zachariah argues, suddenly becoming very fierce and passionate. Looks like Mr. Perfect doesn't get along with _all_ the other students, after all. "And while you may think it to be a mere relic, it is an important _heirloom_ from my homeland!"

"Uh, where are you from again?"

"The grand kingdom of _Grohl_!"

"And where is that? South America?"

"In Europe, the very same continent you were birthed in! Between the countries of Cobain and Novoselic!"

"...What?"

"Dost thou not know thy _basic geography_, Sir Michael?!"

"Hey, hey, hey, guys...let's not get into a fight, okay?" Nissa cries, cutting in between the two male Elites. She flails her arms wildly to get their attention, although both of them are still angrily fixated on the other. Her staff comes dangerously close to whacking them in their faces. "Turn those frowns upside down!"

At this point, Zachariah seems to be on the verge of exploding with national pride. Michael looks like he'll collapse from boredom any second. And Nissa, of course, is trying to prevent further conflict. I figure that now is not a good time to interrupt or give my two cents.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Niss'." Michael rolls his eyes. "I was just messin' with him. Don't take it too seriously."

"You made Zach upset, though!" Nissa exclaims, pouting at the bandit. "That's going a little too far, don't 'cha think?"

"Meh, not really. Managed to get someone rattled, so that's a win for me." Michael shakes his head in disappointment and throws his hands behind his back. "Lemme tell ya, this turned into a snooze fest real quick. Thought the new girl'd be entertaining, but she didn't keep me all that interested."

_Good,_ I think to myself,_ I don't __**want**__ to be considered interesting to a ruffian like you._

"Whatever, think I'll make my exit now. Smell ya later, I guess." Michael casually gives a half-hearted glance over his shoulder before sauntering off. I assume he will be on the prowl for new victims to tease or prank. For once, both Zach and I are relieved to see an Elite go off, but Ellanora is surely doomed if Michael finds her.

"Estelle, Zach, don't look so distressed!" Nissa pleads, the illusionist popping before us to block our view of Michael's retreating figure. "When other people are sad, that makes _me_ sad! So pretty please with a cherry on top, be happy, happy, happy!"

At this, Zachariah smiles anxiously. "Do not be concerned for my sake, Lady Nissa. 'Twas the fault of mine for allowing myself to become irritated. I shall do my best to correct this behavior in the future!"

"Well, if you say so, Zach..." Nissa then turns to me, but her face falls when she sees that I still wear an unamused semi-smirk. "Eeeeeh? Estelle, you look so scary with that frownie!"

"I'm _tired_," I shoot back, not willing to invest the extra time and energy to explain that I want to hurry up and conclude Elite introductions. "And meeting Michael didn't help improve my mood."

"Aw...hey, I know a way to brighten up your day!" Nissa offers, holding her star staff up with a bubbly grin. "I'm gonna cast a spell on ya!"

"Magic isn't real," I reply instantly, staring at the illusionist with a blank expression.

"Sure it is! You just gotta believe hard enough!" Nissa reassures me, giving me a pat on the back. She radiates hyper-altruism. "I'm gonna put a good luck charm on ya so you'll be able to smile lots more!"

"No such thing as luck, either," I inform her, but that doesn't stop Nissa from initiating her strange ritual anyway.

The illusionist starts to spin in a circle around me, all whilst twirling her starry baton in a complicated pattern. Silver ribbons trail behind her like gales of wind, reflecting light in a surreal way. She mumbles a few nonsense phrases as she does this, concluding the ceremony with a light tap of her staff on my forehead.

"There ya go! May the stars smile upon you!" Nissa giggles, satisfied with the procedure. "How do ya feel?"

"I don't feel anything," I respond truthfully, but I must be wearing more of a bewildered expression than a neutral one, because Nissa beams at me.

"The good luck magic will come into effect later, I promise!" the illusionist laughs. She then whips around to Zach and bonks him on the shoulder with her baton. "As for you, Sir Knight, I grant your _special something_ protection from theft!"

Again, they're talking about his precious item. Not that I really care or anything, but is it really that important to him? And so much so that he'd fight to keep it with him…_I wonder what it could possibly be?_

"Haha, thank you, Lady Nissa. I appreciate the gesture." Zachariah smiles, this time more genuinely. He glances over at me and then at the sun overhead, which has started to decline in the sky. "If you will excuse; I have promised milady to show her to our living accommodations."

My ears perk up at the mention of living accommodations. Finally, I'm being rewarded for my patience and dealing with lunatics all day. My heart begins to race excitedly at the prospect of being able to lie down in a bed and stretch my sore limbs.

"Ah, okay!" Nissa chirps, luckily not keeping me around for any longer than necessary, "Have fun resting up! I'll see you guys around!"

"Yes, see you..." I mutter, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can at one time (which still isn't very much).

Nissa waves farewell with big, wide arcs before going off on her own. As she is skipping away, I notice something quite odd-stuffed into the belt of her dress is what appears to be a worn piece of rolled up parchment paper. It looks the exact same as the one Michael had in his scarlet sash.

Just what _are_ those...?

* * *

"My, my...Is it that late already? Time sure does fly when you're having fun! Hm, I suppose it is almost time for me to make my entrance in the Story! The Characters will be rather surprised to see their humble Narrator, I'm sure. After all, Narrators aren't usually written into the Script!"

"Oh well, they'll get used to me eventually! After all, it's not like they have anyone else to turn to, or anywhere else to go! The village is their new home, their safe haven!

"Anyone _hoo_ says otherwise...

"...will be promptly _dealt with_."

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Yay, so happy to hammer out another chapter a few days after the last update!**

**There are only a few more students left to be introduced, and our sketchy Monokuma-like mascot will enter next chapter! The "hoo" at the end of this chapter should give you a hint as to what animal he is...and he was also referenced in chapter 2, spying on the Elites in the forest!**

**Anyway, there was a lot of important points dropped in this chapter, with the mention of the village's story, the implied origins of Estelle's antisocial nature, Zachariah's mysterious precious item, and the weird parchment papers. They're all important to the story, so they will be expanded upon later.**

**I'm off to work on the next chapter, so hope to see you then! This is the Internet Explorer, signing out.**


	5. Oh, Ordinary World

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, a group of CHILDREN were abducted and whisked FAR, FAR AWAY by a figure known as the GREAT WITCH. She told the kidnapped CHILDREN that if they wished to leave their confines and see the outside world again, they were to KILL another and not get caught by the others.**_

_**At first, they denied their true natures, the innate DARKNESS that resided in each of them. The kids did not want to believe that they were capable of great EVIL. But slowly, one by one, the CHILDREN perished until there were naught but six left standing.**_

_**"We can't let any more of our FRIENDS die," said one CHILD, eyes glimmering with HOPE. "We must stand together and defeat the GREAT WITCH."**_

_**And so, following the HOPEFUL CHILD'S lead, the six CHILDREN fought will all their MIGHT. The GREAT WITCH sneered at their efforts to combat her. Thus, the FIGHTING raged on for some time. Back and forth, back and forth.**_

_**Then, out of the ashes...**_

_**...rose the six VICTORS.**_

_**"We've done it," said the HOPEFUL CHILD, "We've defeated the GREAT WITCH! We're free!"**_

_**But that was not the end of it.**_

_**Upon returning to their ORDINARY WORLD, the CHILDREN discovered a realm of DEATH and DESPAIR. The GREAT WITCH had cast a CURSE upon the land, causing a terrible TRAGEDY to befall mankind. The CURSE remained, and has yet to be broken.**_

_**Where are HEROES when you need them?**_

* * *

I _wish_ I could say that we immediately head to our housing accommodations, but we don't. Well, kind of, sort of, maybe. Naturally, we hit a distraction of sorts. En route to a place to rest, I spot something blasphemous and proceed to...politely _comment_, shall we say, on it. Zachariah, being my tour guide, is forced to sit through it.

_"TH-THIS IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING!"_ I declare, pointing accusingly at the object of my horror with a trembling finger. "W-WHY IS THIS EVEN HERE?!"

"Milady, surely it is not as awful as you claim it to be." Zachariah sighs, following my gaze with hesitant eyes. "We should at least be thankful this building exists at all, given that the rest of the village is of the medieval fashion. From my understanding, those in the Dark Ages were not particularly fond of the daily ritual of cleansing thyselves."

"NO, THIS IS DEFINITELY _THE. __**WORST.**__ POSSIBLE. THING._" I insist stubbornly. How _dare_ he defend such an obscene area?! _What's the matter with this crazy knight?!_

"Even worse than being berated by Lady Priscilla?" Zachariah inquires, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"_WAY_ WORSE THAN THAT!" I clarify, wondering what on Earth his priorities were.

"Milady, please calm yourself," Zachariah begs, placing a hand on my shoulder, "it is merely a _public bathhouse._ Nothing to fret over."

"Are you serious?!" I demand, gaping at the Elite Knight in utter disgust. "There are about a _MILLION_ things wrong with public bathhouses! That's why we don't have them around anymore!"

"I have no idea what you might be referring to," Zachariah admits in a nonchalant manner. "Is a bathhouse not beneficial for us, given that we need a means to wash our bodies? It prevents the spread of diseases and promotes health."

"Obviously, I know that!" I counter, wondering if Zachariah is, for once, questioning my intelligence rather than the other way around. "Look, that's not the issue here! It's the...just...it's...y-you know what, just come with me!"

Frustrated at the knight's denseness, I figure the only way to prove my point is to physically show him myself. And thus, hooking my arm around his, I pull Zachariah up the polished steps and through the high marble archway of the bathhouse. I know that he can easily overpower me, but for some reason, he just goes with the flow. Maybe he has deluded himself into thinking that I see him as a friend and just wants to bask in this moment of bonding or whatever, I don't know.

"There, see the problem now, genius?"

Zachariah stares at his newfound surroundings, scanning every corner for a detail out of place. The mosaics on the floor peer up at him curiously, as though observing him in return. Oddly enough, the bathhouse tiles-both on the floors and the walls-seem to be painting out the same "story" that Endi had told by the water fountain. There they are again, the motifs of various villagers and the shadow cackling from the skies, right before it is slain by the six heroes.

Anyway, back to the bathhouse. To the far left, there is a pair of doors leading to male and female latrines, which do not resemble toilets in any way, although they function like toilets. Medieval latrines resemble wooden benches with circular openings at the top, which feed into underground chutes where waste accumulates. Yes, _real _classy, I know.

To the far right are two sets of thin curtains, dividing the remainder of the bathhouse into a males section and a females section. Beyond the curtains are giant wooden tubs, presumably filled to the brim with warm water from aqueducts, and maybe soap, if we are fortunate. The only thing dividing the male and female parts of the public bathhouse is a third curtain, just as paper thin as the other ones.

"I don't see anything wrong here," Zachariah announces, not registering my utter distress. "Are you sure this was not a mere jest, milady?"

"Do I look like I'm _jesting _here?!" I demand, folding my arms across my chest.

"No, I suppose not," Zachariah confesses, laughing lightly at my pouting. He clearly doesn't take me seriously, which makes me all the more irritated.

"It's a _public_ bathhouse!" I exclaim, face flushing a pink hue, "There aren't separate shower stalls for everyone! And it's practically _co-ed_! Those flimsy curtains can easily tear from any amount of dampness, and then what the _hell_ are we supposed to do?! Multiple girls or guys are just supposed to keep bathing in the _same _place at once?! That's _gross,_ not to mention _awkward_ and potentially _unsanitary_!"

By the time I've finished my spiel, I'm left bright red instead of pink, and I'm gasping and panting for air. Zachariah blinks obliviously at my freak-out.

"Seems perfectly fine to me," the knight says casually, glancing over the bathhouse as though looking at the Mona Lisa. "although if it really bothers you that much, perhaps you can work out a bathing schedule with the other students. That way, no two people are in at the same time."

"So am I just to assume that you're fine bathing whenever, wherever, with whomever?" I inquire sarcastically, not amused at how well he is taking all of this information in.

"It matters little to me," Zachariah replies, shrugging. "The accommodations back when I was training to ascend to knighthood were quite similar to this. Judging from your reaction, I would assume that it is not the norm for many others."

"Of course it's not the norm! Why _would _it be?!" I cry, throwing my arms into the air in annoyance. "No one in this day and age wants strangers waltzing in on them while they're in the middle of taking a bath!"

"Er, milady..." Zachariah pipes up nervously, his eyes focusing not on me, but rather, something behind me. I just assume he's looking at some pretty patterns on the walls and continue talking.

"I mean, what sort of _inconsiderate slobs_ would do that? Strut in, unannounced, to interrupt someone washing themselves? That's such a _crime_!"

"Milady..." Zachariah repeats, his voice quickly growing frantic in tone.

Instead of snubbing the knight this time, I heave a sigh. "What is it? Can't you see I'm trying to rip apart this shady establishment and expose it for what it _really_ is?"

"Yes, well...er..." Zachariah pauses to clear his throat before concluding his thought. "...it may behoove you to turn around."

"Turn around?" I echo the knight's words in confusion-but of course, wishing to see what the fuss was about, I do as he says. "Why would I need to..._oh._ Oh dear."

Lo and behold, an Elite has poked her head out from behind the curtains of the female baths. Her dark, icy eyes jab at Zachariah and I, lips pursed into a thin line. I freeze up right on the spot.

_What have I gotten myself into now?_

* * *

The female Elite throws aside the curtain with a flourish, revealing herself to be fully clothed and completely dry, which is a huge relief. (I would have painted myself as _such_ a hypocrite if she actually _had_ been in the middle of bathing!) She glides over to Zachariah and I, wearing her aloof expression and maintaining perfect posture all the while, a battered notebook tucked under her an arm. The girl's wavy, pastel blue hair is swept to the left side of her face, the rest of her locks cascading down her back in a high ponytail. A conductor's baton sticks out from behind her right ear.

Even from a distance, I can tell just how powerful the girl's gaze is. The Elite's sharp, narrow eyes are the color of dangerously burnt sugar, threatening to tip into a dark obsidian. Her pupils seem to pulsate with aristocratic authority and charm behind a pair of thin-rimmed gold glasses. Even the girl's school uniform seems to only emphasize her grace and sophistication. The pale grey dress goes down to about her ankles and sports bronze and gold accents along the hems. Her boots make loud clicking noises as she makes her way across the bathhouse floor.

"Salutations," she greets us, her tone mild and even. The female Elite speaks with a posh, upper class accent. "I see that you are not the biggest fan of this facility, hmm? You sounded rather agitated when describing the faults of a public bathhouse."

"N-No, I'm not," I reply, turning tomato red in humiliation. I had not expected another Elite to have been eavesdropping on my rant.

"Hee hee...no need to be so uptight. Peers have no need to be so formal with one another. Please, address me as Frieda Gatzemeyer. I am a humble conductor of the Loyal Class." With that being said, she bows her head slightly to me.

"I'm Estelle Malgosia. Wise Mythologist." I mutter quickly, for once relieved that I have to give an introduction-it helps distract from my shameful display from earlier. "Er...Zachariah is showing me around the village."

"Is that so?" Frieda smiles mysteriously, a hand cupped over her mouth. Every one of her motions appears fluid and meaningful. "How very gallant of you, Zach."

"Not at all, Lady Frieda!" the knight laughs, scratching the back of his head. "'Tis but all in a day's work! Milady and I are wrapping up the last of our tour now, in fact. She will be resting at the guild soon enough."

"Ah, I see. As for myself, I was testing out the acoustics in this building. The water, of course, helps to deflect sound." Frieda pauses, frowning slightly. "If only there were instruments to play...I think I shall go mad if I continue to wallow in silence. Hearing any sort of tune, even the simplest of melodies, would be nice."

"I wouldn't have taken you to be the type that enjoys loud sounds and music," I note, raising an eyebrow. Seriously, even if she _is_ the Elite Composer, Frieda looks much too..._proper_ to enjoy noisy riff-raft.

"Well, there's more that meets the eye with some people," Frieda replies, chuckling softly to herself. "For example, I was born with impressive hearing capabilities-but you wouldn't be able to tell that from just looking at me, would you?"

"I suppose not," I agree, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with Frieda's gaze. Her eyes are so dark, I feel as though I will be swallowed up by a black hole if I maintain contact for too long. Even when I manage to look away, I feel the heat of her eyes on me, making me squirm slightly in my spot.

"So, Estelle, if you do not mind my asking...do you find your classmates agreeable?" Frieda inquires politely, peering at my face with those intense eyes of hers. "You seem to get along quite well with Zach, no? After all, he _is_ your guide."

"They're fine," I lie, rolling my eyes at the thought of the weird cast of characters I'd met throughout the day. "And Zachariah is...uh...a_ special_ case. A really, _really_ special case."

"Huzzah, I am dubbed special!" the knight cheers, his cheer bouncing off the walls of the bathhouse. _Yup, he's __**definitely**__ delusional._

"Hm...I see." Frieda murmurs, her lips forming the tiniest of smirks. "You're not very _honest_ with yourself, are you, Estelle? Like a deceptive cadence, pretending to be one thing, but slowly descending into another..."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" I demand suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at the composer. She is the first student to blatantly call me out on my dishonesty. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that I'm not finding social interaction fun, but to actually have the gall to point it out to me is another thing.

"The eyes are the window to the soul," Frieda informs me, her deep irises flecked with amusement, "although I have always been gifted at reading others. Lies, truths, feelings...everything can be heard in the voice. It is how the heart whispers to the outside world. I suspect much of my success as a composer to have originated from this ability of mine."

"How blunt of you," I frown, dropping any previously polite pretenses. Why keep up the charade when you're already revealed to not be invested in the game? I decide to shut up after that comment, because I realize that every word that leaves my mouth can be used against me. The Elite Composer will be able to register any hint of frustration in my voice, any smidgen of irritation.

"I _do_ get that a lot," Frieda chuckles, brushing aside a loose strand of azure hair, "but I sense that this conversation must be quite a bore to you. You seem to prefer avoiding confrontation rather than facing it head on."

I stare at the composer in shock-I don't very much appreciate her commenting on my character. What does she think she is, a judge? Off to the side, Zachariah does not seem to sense the rising tension between Frieda and I, for he watches the back-and-forth banter between us like a tennis match. Actually, more like an excited father seeing his child gurgle "_dada_" for the first time.

"Am I wrong?" Frieda asks, watching me carefully for my reaction. Her dark eyes dance with quiet curiosity. If I run, she wins. If I fight, the argument just drags on for longer than necessary. Essentially, I can't do anything right now.

"I..." At once, my voice trails off, as my eyes lock in on a piece of paper sticking out from Frieda's notebook. Stained a pale brown and frayed at the edges, it resembles the rolled parchments that Nissa and Michael had on them before. "What is that?" I demand, pointing to the damaged sheet.

"Hm? Oh, this?" Frieda fishes the piece of parchment paper out of her notebook, dangling it in front of me as though it were a carrot for a starving rabbit. Words are inscribed into the paper in jet black ink, listing off information pertaining to the Elite Composer. "An item dropped off to me by Thomas. He said something about it being a means of identifying ourselves."

"They're like ID cards?" I venture, staring at Frieda in disbelief.

The universities that my mother and father lecture at take serious security measures, requiring that student ID cards be swiped before gaining entry to any building. I didn't expect we'd be needing them in a medieval village in the middle of a forest-and why paper? It's too flimsy and easily lost. Plastic cards make much more sense.

"Perhaps they are, and perhaps they aren't." Frieda shakes her head, seemingly unsure of the mechanics herself. "Thomas has been running wild and making deliveries to the other students all day. I would assume that neither you, nor Zachariah, are in possession of your own yet."

"That assumption would be correct, Lady Frieda!" the knight cries, affirming her guess. "Let that be our next mission, then! We shall find the whereabouts of Sir Thomas and these strange papers!"

"Where can I find him?" I demand, the mystery of the parchment papers too tempting for me to resist. _Now __**this **__makes for an intriguing story..._

"Well, look at you taking charge, Estelle." Frieda smirks, gently applauding my call to action. "Maybe you _can_ be motivated, after all. Hm, like a violin that simply needs to be tuned prior to a performance..."

"Just tell me where this Thomas guy went!" I sputter impatiently. For every second wasted talking, the delivery boy could be getting farther and farther away from us!

"Straight to the point, huh?" Frieda pauses before answering, "Hm...the last time I saw him, he was on his way to the guild. You can't miss Thomas...he has poofy hair...like cotton candy, if you will, but more pointed."

"You heard her, Zachariah!" I exclaim excitedly, tugging hard on the knight's arm, "Guild, let's go! Show me the way! Chop, chop!"

I don't wait for him to give a response, and start to drag him out the exit. As we stumble down the bathhouse stairs, the knight manages to flash a giant, toothy grin. "Milady, it's quite refreshing to see you so zealous in a pursuit-"

"Yeah, yeah! Just lead me to the guild, Zachariah!" I command him dismissively. The poor guy is nearly on the verge of tearing up from sheer happiness. _Oh, my young disciple is all grown-up! She's a big girl who can hold half conversations with strangers now! Such a big improvement!_

"Hee hee...farewell, dishonest Estelle," Frieda calls after me in a sing song. She does not seem to mind the fact that she did not receive a formal farewell. Rather, she seems more entertained by my sudden interest in silly sheets of paper. "We will see each other again, I am sure."

_Yes, we will,_ I silently agree, _whether I like it or not._

* * *

The guild stands out amongst all the other buildings in the village, mainly because of its height. Being a few stories high, the guild towers above the shops and cottages, it's multitude of glass panes and turrets imposing a watch over the area. A clock is embedded into the guild's tallest, central most turret, signaling that it is midday, and that the sun will soon set. The sky is tinged with sunset hues-pinks, oranges, and yellows.

In the medieval ages, guilds were like labor unions, gathering apprentices and masters in a similar craft to work together to make profits and maintain their rights. For us Elites, the many rooms available in the guild make it a temporarily hotel spot. I expect minimal furnishings in our private chambers, as well as beds of straw instead of proper mattresses. _Oh, what I would __**give**__ to lie down in a bed and nap!_

_But this is no time for rest and relaxation,_ I think as I barge through the guild entrance, Zachariah trailing behind me. My eyes dart around the first floor, seeking out someone along the lines of Frieda's description. I spot two Elites standing before what appears to be a huge, empty bulletin board, so I rush over to them. They seem to be in the middle of a discussion on the housing.

"Think we can find some goddamn pillows around here?"a girl, the bulkier of the two, is saying.

"I dunno, do medieval villages even have pillows?" the leaner one wonders, only to get cut off by me.

"H...Hello! I-I'm Estelle! Estelle Malgosia! Elite Mythologist from the Wise Class!" I blurt out, slightly out of breath from having sprinted over. I suspect that I must be somewhat sweaty and that my cheeks are flushed from adrenaline, but I couldn't care less-I _must_ find out what those parchment papers are!

"What the hell?!" the female Elite of the pair, chestnut hair whipped back into a shoulder length ponytail, stares at me as though I'm a three eyed alien from Mars. Her nostrils flare in anger. "Hey, don't just fuckin' pop up like that! Gimme a warning or somethin' first!" She yells, sending me recoiling in fear with her raging blue glare. Underneath her open navy blazer, white button-up shirt, and black knee length skirt, well-defined muscles ripple in rage.

"E-Eep!" I squeak, scrambling backwards. "S-Sorry! My mistake!" Out of the corner of my eye, I see a rolled up sheet of parchment paper sticking out of her blazer pocket-but now is an inopportune time to ask about it.

"Ahhh, Johanna, I think you scared her," the pale, scrawny Elite beside her points out. His eyes are a deep crimson brown hue, and he is dressed in a short sleeved, periwinkle shirt and dark pants, a satchel slung over his shoulder. A navy cap with a golden emblem on it is clamped tightly over his hair, which pokes out towards the nape of his neck as voluminous white spikes.

"Indeed, you have, Lady Johanna!" Zachariah chimes in, presumably addressing the female Elite. "She may have startled you, but milady was simply introducing herself out of good will-and you should do the same!"

I think the more accurate phrase would be _'out of obligation_', but I tactfully remain quiet. I don't want to get into another argument with the knight-and I most certainly don't want to get berated again by the muscular girl.

"Tsk, whatever. See here, short stuff," the female Elite growls, pointing accusingly at me, "the name's Johanna Zeal, boxer from the Kind Class. Just don't piss me off in the future and we'll get along _great_."

Again, I'm questioning what the admissions staff at Camelot Academy was thinking when they were sorting students around. _Guys, let's put a boxer in the Kind Class! We already have a hunter in there, so why not? She has a nasty temper and likes to pick fights, but beneath all that, I'm sure she has a heart of pure gold! Yeah, that sounds about right. What's next? Oh, a baker? Courageous Class it is for her! We're so good at our jobs!_

I find myself staring at Johanna in confusion, wondering what warranted her acceptance into such a prestigious learning institution. Surely they don't reward violent behavior at Camelot, _do they_? But how else would she get in-by volunteering in soup kitchens in her free time? She's not the Elite Good Samaritan, for _crying out loud!_

_"Hey!"_ Johanna barks again, her short fuse getting the better of her once again, "the _hell_ are you lookin' at, princess?"

"N-Nothing..." I quickly divert my gaze away from the boxer, only to meet the other Elite's.

"Hi there, Estelle! I'm Thomas Durandal, Elite Courier of the Loyal Class." He grins widely, radiating a sense of eagerness. "Boy, you and Zach have perfect timing! I was just about to head out searching for you guys! Guess this makes my job a whole lot easier, huh?" Reaching into his satchel, Thomas fishes out a few items and places one in my hand, then the other in Zach's.

They are battered parchment papers the color of smoked wood, wrapped up like Christmas presents with bright red ribbon. The very same ones a few of the other Elites had.

"Thank you, Sir Thomas!" Zachariah declares, tearing into his gift like a savage animal. I, on the other hand, take my time to undo the ribbon and smooth out the paper. My name and title flare up at the top of the sheet. "But...what might this be? Lady Frieda said that you may hold the answers."

"Forget it," Johanna snaps, planting her hands on her hips. "this guy knows _jack shit_ about these dumb things."

"That's not true..." Thomas mutters, although he, too, looks somewhat apprehensive about the items. "Ah, truth be told, I just found them piled up on at the front desk of the guild. There was a note that asked someone to deliver them to the corresponding students. It called these things E-Scrolls."

"And you just did what a weird set of instructions told you to do?" Johanna demands, apparently opposed to blindly following orders. "You don't even know who left these here-or how the fuck they know all this random crap about us!" The boxer whips out her own scroll, jabbing an angry finger at a line of information. "Name, title, age, height, weight, blood type, accomplishments, likes, dislikes...hell, even my _three sizes_! This is written by a _goddamn stalker_!"

At the mention of this, I pale in horror, scanning my own E-Scroll to see what kind of dirt it has on me. Johanna is frighteningly right-this single piece of paper reiterates just about everything on me, excluding personality and extensive background. I blush furiously, knowing that someone, somehow, got their hands on such personal information.

"I-I mean, it was kind of shady, but it bothers me to leave a task undone, so...I did my job as the Elite Courier and distributed all of the E-Scrolls!" Thomas explains nervously. This does little more than earn the diligent mailman another venomous, withering glare from Johanna.

"Good going," the boxer says sarcastically, "but I still don't get the point of these. Might as toss it in the trash."

"Hey, don't go and do that! I'm sure they're important for _something_!" Thomas reassures her. "They _must_ be! Why else would there be one for every student?"

"Sir Thomas," Zachariah interjects, glancing up from his parchment with a concerned expression, "does it not occur to you that this is quite _odd?_ Some individual appears to have gone to a lot of trouble for all of this."

"Eh? What do you mean, Zach?" Thomas asks, blinking innocently at the knight's inquiry. The Loyal student seems to be the type to do something now and ask questions later-or perhaps never ask questions at all.

"Let us review what we know," Zachariah suggests, tucking his E-Scroll away into his breast pocket. He begins to slowly count off on his fingers as he makes his points. "Starting at the beginning...

"First, the sixteen of us Elites found ourselves in the forest without any recollection of how we got there, and we cannot seem to escape, despite our many efforts. Second, we find a village that conveniently has everything needed for survival, but the original inhabitants are nowhere to be found. Third, we are handed these suspicious papers that contain personal details by the order of an unknown individual. Are these facts in conjunction with one another not forming ominous implications?"

But no one is given the opportunity to respond to Zachariah's eloquent (and rare) argument. Light-bright, bright, _bright _light-emits from the knight's breast pocket, practically blinding us. My eyes widen in shock. I know I've made jokes about Zachariah nearly sparkling, but I didn't actually think something like this would _actually_ happen.

I quickly realize that it is not the Courageous student who is shining, but his E-Scroll. Light soon begins to protrude from Johanna's (in her blazer pocket), Thomas's (in his satchel), and mine (in my hands). Confused, each of us pulls out our parchments to find that the jet black ink has transmuted into elegant gold. No longer do the E-Scrolls contain a laundry list of personal information. They now spell out short and concise instructions.

**ALL CHARACTERS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE VILLAGE SQUARE. YOUR HUMBLE NARRATOR AWAITS.**

"N-No way...No fucking way!" Johanna cries, dropping her scroll on the floor. Shaking in alarm, she backs away from her paper until she slams against the cold walls of the guild.

"The words," I gasp, "they've _changed._"

* * *

"Everyone, settle _down_!" Carina orders, looming over the remainder of the Elites like a falcon would unto its prey. Mounted on the ledge of the water fountain with Icarus perched on her shoulder, she commands our attention. Without having formally announced it, Carina appears to have become the authority figure for us unstable Elites.

I stand somewhere in the back of the crowd, a little ways away from the others, wanting to quietly observe everything from a safe distance. Zachariah, meanwhile, is frantically weaving his way in and out of various groups, presumably trying to calm down as many students as possible. Nissa seems to be doing the same, waltzing from student to student to place her good luck charm on them.

Of course, every Elite reacts to our situation in a different way, but there is no denying that the overall emotions are panic and confusion, judging from the few snippets of conversation I manage to catch. Carina is having a difficult time getting us to focus on the same thing.

"I wanna know exactly what the _hell_ is going on here!" Johanna bellows, demanding answers from someone-_anyone_. She doesn't seem to be sure who or what to direct her anger at.

"Yes, it would be nice to have some clarification," Endi chimes in politely, although his voice is dripping with worry. Beside him, Cado nods in strong silence.

"As much as I hate to agree with you low class commoners, I second the barbarians' notion." Lance sneers, his remark punctuated by Mustachio Pete's irritating cackle.

"Dude, take a chill pill," Jaxon suggests, clearly more amused than frightened at our situation. "Anger makes your age faster, ya know? In fact, I think I see some hairs of yours turning grey right now..."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Space Case!" Mana groans, shooting the wayfarer with a look of annoyance. "As soon as I find out who's responsible for kidnappin' us, I'm gonna kick their ass into _next week_!"

"Hey, I was gonna say that!" Johanna growls, her hands balling into threatening fists. "At least lemme give the bastard a good ol' sucker punch to the gut!"

"Indeed, the time for jokes has long since passed," Frieda muses, but makes a face at Mana's announcement, "but that is not to say that violence should be our next course of action."

"No, let fools go and do that," Lance purrs bitterly, looking upon the two aggressive female Elites with disgust, "and when your bones get broken, I'll laugh at them."

"And I'll loot your corpse when the girls decide to gang up on you for that comment, Lance!" Michael chuckles, earning a harsh glare from the ventriloquist.

"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but none of that seems very nice..." Richard pipes up. His voice is quickly drowned out by the others. Thomas tries to comfort the hunter.

"They're just a little worked up, Ricard," the courier laughs anxiously, trying to make the best out of the currently stressful atmosphere.

A little ways off, Ellanora yelps in horror at the discussion. She looks like she will have a nervous breakdown any second now, but luckily, Priscilla manages to calm the statistical down with a soft, flowery pat on the back and a sugar cookie from her apron pocket. Nibbling on the sweet helps to slightly calm Ellanora's nerves.

"Oh, ha ha, _very_ funny, mister! I'll chomp yer face off before you try to steal offa Lance!" Mustachio Pete spits out sarcastically, making the bandit laugh even harder at Lance's own pathetic defense. Honestly, I don't think anyone will take the ventriloquist _or_ that puppet of his _seriously._

"Hey, come on! My joke was _way _funnier!" Jaxon protests, clamoring next to Mana. "Come on, my joke was _totally_ funny, right?"

"Mister Caldwell, please do be _considerate_ to your classmates and _respect _the _**predicament**_ that we are in!" Carina warns, throwing Jaxon a sharp glare. The redhead shrinks in silence. In fact, the entire crowd does at the mention of our dire situation, each of us lending the falconer our ears.

"That's _better_." Carina sighs, regaining her composure. "Now then, is anyone here aware of who might be behind this...this message?"

The falconer brandishes her own E-Scroll before the sea of anxious Elites before her. Her parchment paper, not surprisingly, reads the same as everyone else's. Flowing gold script spells out the declaration from mere moments prior to gathering in the village square.

**ALL CHARACTERS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE VILLAGE SQUARE. YOUR HUMBLE NARRATOR AWAITS.**

"Words do not just spontaneously change like this," Carina says slowly, "so whoever is responsible for this prank, speak up now or forever hold your peace."

The Elites glance around at one another, expecting someone, anyone, to plead guilty of the crime. Still, no one bothers to confess to it. Hey, all I can say for sure is that it most certainly isn't _me!_

"This can't possible _be_." Carina groans, massaging her temples in mild annoyance. "_Someone_ is definitely behind all of this nonsense, they just won't _admit_ to it!"

And then...

...from the skies...

...comes a squeaky, childish voice.

"And just _hoo_ might you be referring to, Miss Arcard? Little ol' _me_?"

"...Eh?" Carina freezes up when she feels something land on her head. With hesitant, trembling fingers, she reaches up, feeling something plump and feathered perched on her cranium. "Wh-What is it? What's _on_ me?!" She demands of the remaining Elites, who all stare back at her, wide eyed.

_I've seen it before,_ I realize, _way back in the forest_.

The owl.

* * *

"Greetings, children!" the winged creature chirps, spreading its wings out in a friendly motion. It speaks with a grandfatherly, regal tone, despite the high pitch of its voice. "I welcome you to the forest village of Halkyonia!"

It takes me a few moments to process what exactly is going on. An owl-a tawny brown barn owl-with heart-shaped motifs running across its belly, is _talking_ to us. What makes this all the more implausible is the ridiculously gigantic bow tie and monocle that the owl wears while trying to act all authoritative. This can't _possibly_ be happening...

"_G-Gah_!" Lance suddenly lets out a cry of terror from within the crowd of Elites. All heads turn, followed by a chorus of gasps. Ahead of me, Johanna has seized the ventriloquist by the collar and hoisted him up so that their faces are mere inches apart. Lance's feet dangle precariously in the air.

"Oh _dear_!" the owl squeaks. It doesn't bother to budge from his perch on Carina's head, despite the quickly escalating violence.

"Listen here, you little _piece of shit_," the boxer snarls dangerously, "you better _cut the crap_ before I punch your lights out!"

"I...I'm telling you, it's not me!" Lance sputters in his defense, struggling to meet Johanna in the eyes. "I _swear,_ for once, it's not me! I didn't d-do anything!"

"You really expect me to buy that?! Ain't no way an animal can talk on its own, and you're the only one here who can _throw his voice_!" Johanna hisses, making a surprisingly compelling argument. "What, did you get a _sick kick_ outta seeing us scared as hell?!"

"No, but I certainly get a laugh out of watching you m-making a _complete fool_ of yourself!" Lance bitterly retorts, making Johanna's rage flare up again.

"_SAY THAT AGAIN! _I _**DARE**_ YOU!"

"H-Hey, Johanna! Please calm down!" Ricard pleads, attempting to placate the boxer with words. "T-The owl could have a microphone or something in its bow tie. That would explain the voice...and besides, I don't think Lance would take a joke this far…"

"I-It's true! I wouldn't want to waste th-this much of my _valuable_ time on you _losers_ anyway!" Lance cries, saying all the _wrong _things and only pissing the boxer off even _more_.

"Yeah? You sure about that?!" Johanna demands, still glaring fiercely at the small ventriloquist. "Cuz this _punk _is just begging for a beating!"

"Unhand Sir Lance!" Zachariah commands sternly, folding his arms across his broad chest. He looks primed to leap into action if any unruly behavior breaks out. "We have better things to worry about at the moment!"

"..._Fine_!" Johanna grumbles, roughly planting Lance back on solid ground. She redirects her livid gaze at the owl, quietly fuming. "_Well_?! What're you fucking _waiting_ for?! Go on, _talk_!"

"My, my, my!" the owl mutters to itself, shaking its head in shame. "It looks like you kids need more guidance than I thought!"

"U-Um...w-who are you?" Ellanora's manages to ask from her spot beside Priscilla, her pupils dilated in fear.

"_Hoo,_ me?" the owl asks, acting all bubbly and innocent. It leaps off of Carina's head and lands gently on the ledge of the water fountain with a bow. "Why, I am none other your oh-so-cute-and-cuddly Narrator, of course! And as your Narrator, I, of course, know everything there is to know about you kiddies! You may call me Fukushi!'

"What? Narrator? Fukushi?" Priscilla repeats, her face scrunching up in confusion. "I don't quite get it."

"I get that it's _adorable_!" Nissa squeals girlishly, bouncing up and down in excitement. "Aw, I just wanna _squeeze_ it!"

"It does look like a stuffed animal of sorts," Endi remarks softly. "Perhaps the design would be popular among young children."

"_Weirdoes_..." Lance mutters under his breath. He shuffles farther away from the illusionist and the craftsman.

"Ah-hem! Simply put, you children are now Characters in the Story!" Fukushi explains, causing my ears to perk up in excitement. Characters? Story? _This sounds rather promising..._

"More elaboration would very much be appreciated," Frieda prompts when it becomes evident that the owl won't say more without being pressured.

"What more is there to elaborate on?" Fukushi demands, apparently expecting us to understand him right away. "It's very easy to comprehend, my children! You're Characters, and Characters cannot leave the Story! That's _that_!"

"Wait...we can't leave the Story...so by Story, you mean _the forest_?!" Mana cries, coming to a sudden realization. "Is _that_ why we kept going around in circles?!"

"_Precisely_! The Story encompasses the Village area and the Woods area," Fukushi informs us calmly. "See, not so hard to grasp!"

"It's _way_ hard to grasp, Owl Man!" Jaxon counters, finally getting a sense of how serious our situation is. "I got places to go, things to do, and people to see! How am I supposed to do that if I'm stuck in one place?!"

"There must be _some_ way to leave," Carina insists, her cool gaze piercing into Fukushi. "If you are the so-called Narrator of this Story, then you must know an escape route, correct?"

"Weeeell, theoretically speaking, yes! But it's not so much as a route as it is a method!" the owl clarifies, causing the Elites to go into an uproar. Everyone wants to know the secret to getting out. "Alright, _alright!_ Calm down, children! I'll tell you how to escape-_after _a story!"

A collective _**"WHAT?!"**_ resounds in the village square.

"I...don't think hearing the story helps our case..." Cado mumbles, speaking up in what seems to be forever. "Can we please...just hear how to exit?"

"No way, Jose! This is vital information! Either you sit through _all_ of it, or you hear _none_ of it at all!" Fukushi insists, pouting like a spoiled child.

"Very well, then!" Zachariah calls out, left with no other options. "Proceed with thy storytelling, strange little feathered demon!"

"I'm not a strange little feathered demon! I'm _Fukushi!_" the owl cries, correcting the knight before clearing its throat. "A-Anyway! Gather 'round, Characters, for Fukushi will spin you a story! Fukushi shall tell you a tale to end all tales! Fukushi-"

"-should _shut up_ and get to the point already!" Michael shouts from the back of the crowd of Elites. He sniggers immaturely when the owl shoots him a warning glance.

"Like I was _saying_, I will now tell you the _Story of the Six Heroes_!" Fukushi says cheerily. "Once upon a time, a group of children were abducted and whisked far, far away by a figure known as the Great Witch. She told the kidnapped children that if they wished to leave their confines and see the outside world again, they were to kill another and not get caught by the others.

"At first, they denied their true natures, the innate darkness that resided in each of them. The kids did not want to believe that they were capable of great evil. But slowly, one by one, the children perished until there were naught but six left standing.

"_'We can't let any more of our friends die_,' said one child, eyes glimmering with hope. _'We must stand together and defeat the Great Witch_.'

"And so, following the hopeful child's lead, the six children fought will all their might. The Great Witch sneered at their efforts to combat her. Thus, the fighting raged on for some time. Back and forth, back and forth.

"Then, out of the ashes...

"...rose the six victors.

"_'We've done it_," said the Hopeful Child, '_We've defeated the Great Witch! We're free_!'

"But that was not the end of it.

"Upon returning to their ordinary world, the children discovered a realm of death and despair. The Great Witch had cast a curse upon the land, causing a terrible Tragedy to befall mankind. To this day, the curse remains, and has yet to be broken.

"And _that_ is where _you_ Characters come in!" Fukushi concludes, meeting each and every one of our blank stares with a gleeful, enthusiastic expression. I realize that the story is eerily similar to the one Endo had told me about the water fountain. _The same images had appeared in the bathhouse too..._

"Um, pardon me, Fukushi, sir..." Thomas says slowly, "but how does this involve us at all?"

"I'm just about to get to that part!" Fukushi cries, flapping its wings wildly. "_Yeesh_, kids these days are so _impatient_! Gotta have high speed _everything,_ from food and wi-fi to cars and sexual intercourse-"

_**"GET TO THE POINT!"**_ the Elites cry in unison, sending Fukushi flying back in shock.

"Y-Yes, yes! I get it!" the owl sputters. Either it enjoys going on pointless tangents, or it simply doesn't realize that it goes on tangents at all. "As I was saying, even as the Narrator, I do not have the power to overcome the Curse that the Great Witch has cast upon this Story. If I did, you would already be free!

"You sixteen were selected and brought here because you have the _potential_ to break the Curse. But fear not, children! If the Great Witch is defeated, the Curse upon the Story will be lifted, and you will be able to leave!"

"I don't get all that Curse mumbo-jumbo, but basically what you're sayin' is that all we gotta do is fight someone to get out, right?" Johanna repeats, a wicked grin forming on her face. "Alright, then! Lemme at'em!"

"Me too!" Mana chimes in, stepping beside the Elite Boxer. "I wanna get outta this place."

_"Nonsense!"_ Zachariah cries, shaking his head at Johanna and Mana. "I volunteer _myself _for this task! I believe I have the most combat experience of any of us present-and if anyone is to be harmed or injured, it should be I!"

"Ah...well, I don't like fighting very much, but if it helps my friends, then count me in," Ricard adds, popping up next to the knight. "I'll try not to get in your way, Zach."

"Much appreciated, Sir Ri-"

"No, no, _no_! That's _not_ how it works!" Fukushi points out, unamused with the students suddenly stepping up for battle. "The original Great Witch is long since dead, but her influence-that is to say, the remnants of her Magic-still remains in this land! You cannot hope to combat Magic and win! That is a foolish _death wish_!"

"What?!" Zachariah bellows in alarm. "Then how dost thou propose we defeat such a monstrosity?!"

"You must slay the Great Witch's Familiar, the spiritual amalgamation of her Magic prowess! It lurks somewhere in the Woods!"

"Then what are we waiting for?!" Zachariah demands, about to explode from standing still for a prolonged period of time. "Let me face this Familiar beast! I shall swiftly smite the-_ouch_!"

The knight is cut off abruptly when Fukushi decides to launch itself at his head, thereby headbutting Zachariah mid-speech.

"We're you listening to me at _all,_ Mister Garmont?!" the owl huffs, proceeding to roost on the Courageous Elite's head. "In RPG terms, you cannot hope to even deal a _single_ point of damage to the Great Witch's Familiar as you are now! You're all still Level 1 Characters, not even _close_ to being true Heroes!"

"The more the dearie talks, the less I understand..." Priscilla mutters to herself.

"Okay, Owl Man, hold up. Keep going with that RPG analogy for a sec," Jaxon suggests, scratching his head of red hair. "So if this Familiar thing is like the _final boss_ of a game, how would we be able to get strong enough to actually _fight _it?"

"I'm glad you asked! You simply need to prove your _heroism_!" Fukushi says, beaming. "Within the guild, there's a big bulletin board on the first floor. That's called the Quest Board. Missions-or Quests, as I like to call them-will be posted, and you children will be free to take on any of them as you see fit, whether individually or as groups.

"Quests can be anything-any task at all-and the difficulty of the Quest determines how much Experience you reap upon completion. Still, no matter how mundane the Quest, each is likely to help you grow and develop as a Character. And _hoo _knows, hm? Perhaps you will be rewarded with other treasures along the way!

"For now I'd advise that you children carry out Quests within the safety of the Village. You see, Halkyonia has a protection charm placed over it, so the Familiar may not enter. If you wander into the Woods, it will eventually hunt you down! Once you complete more harrowing Quests, you may stray a bit from the Village, but not too far.

"When you have accumulated enough Experience, you will Level Up and sometimes unlock new things. You achieve Hero status when you max out your Level, which should be five out of five. Anyone may check their current Level by consulting their Enchanted Scrolls!"

"Enchanted..._what?_" Lance demands, making a sour face. Of course he has to cut in and make a cruel comment. "Sounds super girly and lame."

"Lame, lame, laaaaame!" Mustachio Pete choruses after its master.

"Oh, sorry!" Fukushi apologizes frantically, realizing his error. "I meant E-Scrolls! The _E_ stands for _Enchanted,_ you see!"

_Enchanted?_ Is _that_ the talking owl's explanation for the words magically distorting? And those cottages with the signs...we need to complete Quests to unlock them? _Is that it?_ All the surreal instructions leaving Fukushi's beak are getting confusing.

"Ah, and speaking of your E-Scrolls..." Fukushi flaps over and lands on Thomas's head. "Thank you for doing me the favor of distributing them to your fellow Characters!"

"Oh, er...no problem." Thomas answers awkwardly, not quite sure how to respond to a talking owl sitting on him.

"Alright, now where was I? Oh, yes! The Familiar feeds off of human despair, so by developing your own strengths and building up your hopes with Quests, you get closer and closer to slaying what remains of the Great Witch!"

"Th-That's quite convoluted..." Ellanora mumbles unenthusiastically.

"Oh, don't think like that, my child!" Fukushi insists, hopping off of Thomas and beginning to flap in circles around the statistician. She freezes on the spot, fearfully watching Fukushi encircle her. "Your Narrator will be here to guide you along the way!

"Now everyone, please take out your E-Scrolls and look over the Laws of Storytelling!" Fukushi commands, finally perching on the water fountain again. The way the owl phrases it, it is less of a command and more of a light hearted suggestion. "The E-Scroll summarizes everything I've just told you children, along with a few additional rules to keep you safe!

"Until the Familiar is ousted, you children are free to treat Halkyonia as though it were your own home. The original villagers have left it behind in search of a land not burdened by Magic. There are plenty of supplies and lots to explore here, so you shouldn't be bored.

"Oh, but it looks like it's almost bed time for you kiddies. You'd best be headed to the guild soon for a good night's sleep."

The sun has begun to set, casting dark shadows over the village square and while bathing us in the light of a dying day. An uncomfortable silence passes through the village. Reluctantly, every Elite does as Fukushi says, taking out their scrolls of parchment and unfurling them. Again, new words have formed on the page in golden lettering.

**The Laws of Storytelling are as follows: **

**1\. All Characters must reside within the Village or its surrounding area, the Woods. It is recommended that Characters only venture into the Woods if necessary. Their safety is not guaranteed unless they remain on Village grounds. Characters are, however, allowed to explore at their own discretion.**

**2\. Night time is from 10 pm to 7 am. Some areas and buildings will be inaccessible to Characters at night.**

**3\. The E-Scroll (short for Enchanted Scroll, for the curious children out there) must be kept on a Character's being at all times. It is an important part of your Village life and will frequently update with information.**

**4\. Sleeping anywhere other than the Character Guild will be viewed as Deviating from the Story and will result in punishment.**

**5\. Destroying property and breaking into locked facilities is frowned upon, and will also result in punishment.**

**6\. Violence against the Narrator, Fukushi, is strictly prohibited.**

**7\. Characters may not leave the Story until they have achieved full Hero status and slain the Familiar. The Curse will then be lifted, and all will be well.**

**8\. Hero status is achieved by completing Quests, which can be found on the bulletin board in the guild. Characters may complete Quests either individually or in groups. Depending on the Quest difficulty, the Experience earned will vary. Once a Character has accumulated enough Experience to reach Level 5, he or she is deemed a Hero and will be eligible to battle the Familiar.**

**9\. Only when the Familiar is slain and the Curse is lifted will Characters be able to leave the Story.**

**10\. Additional Storytelling laws may be added as necessary.**

**Have a happily ever after!**

* * *

"...Something doesn't look quite right here.

"...Shit. Someone tampered with...Ahhh...curses! How bothersome! Maybe if I try to retract the previous commands...

"What the...it's not working?! But why?! That's not supposed to be in the Story!

"I see...it's _that person's_ doing...trying to flip the Script in their favor.

"Well...there is one thing I can do at this point. But...I promised _them_ I wouldn't mess with the Story...and yet, if I don't, I'm going to have a serious problem on my hands...

"I need to do this. It might cause issues among the Characters, but...this is all I can do to avoid a Bad End for them.

"...Forgive me, for I have _unleashed the beast_."

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Whew! This chapter was a LONG one! And I finally get to introduce Fukushi, who is more of a Usami character than a Monokuma one!**

**Fukushi's name is derived from the Japanese word for owl (fukurō or ****フクロウ****) and the word for mysterious or strange (fushigi or ****ふしぎ****). It may not make sense now since all the characters aren't Japanese, but I promise it will make sense in the long run. **

**As you can see, the story mechanics are much different than what is presented in the Danganronpa games, but don't worry! Corpses, investigations, and trials are guaranteed; they will just be introduced in a different fashion than usual. For now, the kids will have a peaceful fairy tale life of mutual questing! Well, at least until everything starts to go horribly, horribly wrong...**

**With the characters now introduced, I now have all of them as available selections for the "favorite character(s)" poll on my profile page. Please go fill that out to help me determine who will get free time events with Estelle! And don't worry, you WILL get to see her baking episode with Lance and Priscilla! ;P**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and see you next chapter!**


	6. Some Peace and Quiet

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, a PRINCE set off on a JOURNEY to rescue the PRINCESS of another kingdom. According to his sources, a WITCH had cast a SPELL on the PRINCESS, CURSING her to sleep for a hundred years. The only way to FREE her was with, as was customary, TRUE LOVE'S KISS.**_

_**CLICHÉD as it was, the PRINCE was determined to complete his MISSION. And so, he battled evil MONSTERS, endured horrid TERRAIN, and solved puzzling RIDDLES, all for the sake of RESCUING the CAPTIVE PRINCESS. At long last, he arrived at the PALACE where she SLEPT and ascended the stairway to her quarters.**_

_**When the PRINCE entered the PRINCESS'S chambers, he was shocked to find the WITCH there by her bedside.**_

_**"Begone, foul creature!" the PRINCE bellowed, drawing a dagger to drive into the WITCH'S heart. "Leave now and I will spare your life!"**_

_**"Do not be so hasty," the WITCH retorted, calmly looking him in the eyes. "For what purpose have you come here?"**_

_**"To rescue the PRINCESS, of course-and to save this land from your WICKEDNESS!" the PRINCE replied angrily, "Isn't that obvious?"**_

_**"What a horrible man you are," the WITCH sneers, resting a hand on the sleeping PRINCESS'S forehead. "She does not wish to be rescued. It was, in fact, she who asked me to CURSE her, for the PRINCESS seeks a world far fairer than her own. It would just break her heart to return to this realm."**_

_**So, knowing that...**_

_**"Will you still wake the PRINCESS up?"**_

* * *

_I'm standing in an open field that stretches out as far as the eye can see. Wild flowers of various colors dot the lush emerald landscape, the sky hanging overhead a brilliant cerulean, clouds stretched out thin like taffy. Sunshine drenches my skin, bathing me in a warm glow. Somewhere in the distance, a bird song calls out, a simple, haunting melody carried by the wind._

_...It's a beautiful day._

_I try to take a step forward, but my legs won't move. They feel heavy, as though someone has weighed me down with lead blocks. Grunting in annoyance, I try again, only to topple over my own feet. Luckily, the flowers break my fall._

_I find myself collapsing down and end up on my back, getting swallowed up in a sea of colors and aromas. The sun glistens gently, the bird song softly drifting into silence. My eyes begin to flicker, suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of tiredness._

_What is this...?_

_"Sleep, Estelle, __sleep...__" a high pitched voice whispers in my ears. The wind picks up a bit, sending petals and leaves brushing against my skin._

_"Stay here __forever,__ Estelle..." another chimes in, giggling quietly. The sky dims to a darker hue, a sprinkling of stars splattered across the canvas._

_"Live happily ever after, Estelle. Forever and __ever...__" a third voice adds in a sing song. The moon, full and shining a powdery white, has risen, casting pale light upon the field of flowers. The wind whistles in my ears._

_"Just sleep. Sleep. Sleep..." they chorus as my eyelids finally give in to the sweet temptation._

_"Just...sleep..." I mumble, my consciousness slipping away into a void._

_Sleep..._

**"MILADY! MILADYYY! MILADY, IF YOU ARE IN THERE, WAKEST THYSELF UP! PLEASE ARISE FROM THY BED CHAMBERS AT ONCE!"**

* * *

"W-What the hell, Zachariah?!" I sputter in irritation, throwing open my guild room door to face the noisy knight. I must look a mess, having just been rudely awoken-and having rolled about in a bed of straw overnight-but I want to give Zachariah a piece of my mind. "I was having a nice dream until you interru-uh, _whoa_."

My angry rant is cut short when I'm greeted by the sharp glint of metal. Yup, that's definitely Zachariah at the doorstep, but he has exchanged his school uniform for a flowing navy cape and a full suit of armor, save for the helmet, which sports flamboyant plumage and is tucked under one arm. I would throw out a snide comment about how he reminds me of the Tin Man from _The Wizard of Oz _but...uh...truth be told, he actually looks quite _gallant_.

N-Not in a handsome sense or anything, though! Z-Zachariah must just naturally look good in armor; he _is_ the Elite Knight, after all! He must parade around in different styles of armor every day like a weird male model or something! Y-Yeah, that's it!

"I suppose that's your Quest attire..." I mutter, trying my hardest to not gawk. My gaze drifts to the ground just so I don't have to stare at Zachariah's glaring armor-or at Zachariah himself.

After having exposited all that there possibly was to exposit, Fukushi had sentenced us Elites off to bed like little toddlers. Upon entering my assigned guild room, I had discovered a new set of clothes and a note laid out on a pile of straw. It was hard to miss; there was hardly anything else in the room.

The clothing was quite pretty, in my opinion. The main article was a simple white gown with a long skirt, a wide black bodice, flowing sleeves, and a dark flowery pattern along the hem. Additional pieces were a pair of leather boots and a thick, shockingly scarlet cloak and hood. The note, presumably from Fukushi, had informed me that the outfit would aid me during Quests. How exactly, I hadn't the slightest idea (especially when you compare it to Zachariah's more practical suit), so I had shoved the ensemble somewhere and went off to dreamland.

"Indeed it is, milady. But, if I may ask, why are you not in your own Quest attire?" Zachariah inquires, crossing his arms over his chest. He spies the discarded clothing in the corner of the room and frowns. "Surely you have not been sleeping in all day, have you? 'Tis nearly noon!"

"Uh, I _have_." I correct the knight, running my hands though my flaxen hair to smooth out the disheveled mess of twin braids. "Yesterday was _exhausting_! And it's not as though we have anything better to do, so I might as well rest up..."

"What?!" Zachariah gasps, reeling back in repulsion. "Quite the opposite, milady! We must make haste if we wish to leave the Story-and those Quests are not going to complete themselves!"

"The Quests can wait until after breakfast..." I insist in annoyance, quick to dismiss his words for the prospect of food. "Hm...I wonder if the bakery has anything good today."

"Do not be ridiculous! Meals may wait!" He grabs one of my arms and begins tugging on it, prompting me to leave my quarters. "Come now! You'd best get prepared with food and supplies before we set off in the evening! Lady Carina has already gone ahead and-"

I glare at him, digging my heels into the ground to hold my place. "I'm not going _anywhere_, and I'm certainly _not_ doing any silly Quests!"

Zachariah whips around, gazing at me with wide eyes. "Whatever do you mean? We will be able to escape much sooner if multiple parties embark on Quests at once!"

"I don't feel like it," I reply tersely, pulling my arm free of his grip. I'm still half groggy, so my coordination and balance isn't the best. I latch onto the doorframe to better steady myself. "You go on without me."

"Art thou concerned for thy safety?" Zachariah demands, peering at my face with confusion. It seems that passion causes the knight to return to his old-fashioned speech pattern. "Is that it? Because if so, please have no fear! I am more than confident in my combat abilities! So long as I am by thy side, thou art-"

The monologue makes my patience snap.

"No, you don't _get_ it, Zachariah!" I bark, storming back into my chambers and throwing him a bitter glance over my shoulder, "I don't want to leave, so you can count me out of these...these wild adventures of yours!"

"You...you don't _want_ to leave?" the knight repeats, utterly dumbfounded. He just stares blankly at me, not seeing things from my point of view. "I...I do not understand, milady! Dost thou wish to live in a Cursed realm, alienated from thy friends and family?!"

_I never had those things to begin with,_ I want to shout at him, _not really_. I came in with nothing but _knowledge,_ and I have little else to lose. But again, no one needs to know my personal business, so I simply fix him with another withering look. If side-stepping the issue doesn't get my point across, maybe telling him directly will.

"There is nothing _wrong_ with Halkyonia. It's peaceful, it's quiet, and it has everything we could possibly need for survival. There's no war, no famine, no pestilence, no death-the complete opposite of the world we came from. Is it so _bad_ to prefer this place?" I spread my arms out, referring to the entirety of the village. "A place where everything is like a real life fairy tale? Yeah, _right!_ Who would choose reality over a utopia?"

At this, Zachariah falls into an alarmed silence. He gapes at me, slack-jawed and shoulder slumped, as though he were momentarily possessed, his expression a cross between surprise, horror, and disappointment. There it is again, his dejected puppy dog gaze, downtrodden hazel eyes, quivering lower lip, and all.

"Do you understand now?" I demand quietly, not daring to look him in the face as I speak. I'm afraid that it will make my resolve crumble. "I want to be alone. In fact, I _like_ being alone.

"Leave me be." And with that, I slam the door shut without giving Zachariah the opportunity to respond. With the obnoxious knight now out of my face, I lean against the back of the door and allow myself to sink to the ground. Closing my eyes, I inhale, I exhale.

3, 2, 1...

"That cannot be _true_. Think about this long and hard, milady-your _loved ones_...they must miss you horribly! Your mother, your father, your closest _allies_!" Right on cue, Zachariah bounces back up from the ashes of defeat. His voice cuts clearly through the other side of the door, even at his indoor volume.

_Nothing keeps the guy down, I swear...but maybe if I ignore him for long enough, he'll go away_, I tell myself. Fat chance of _that_ happening.

When I don't reply, he sighs and says in a low, melancholy voice, "Please..._please,_ reconsider. I beg of you..."

A cold chill runs down my spine. Never have I heard Zachariah sound so pleading, so desperate. He's determined to get out of the Story-_because he actually has something to return to,_ I remark to myself snidely. _Good for him._

The door suddenly thumps violently as Zachariah presumably brings his fist down upon it in frustration. _Oh no,_ I think. With his superhuman strength, Zachariah will have this door _decimated_ into a bunch of wooden chips when he's done with it.

"N-No! You're not allowed in here!" I sputter in panic. The last thing I need is an overly emotional knight storming in and forcibly whisking me away to adventure.

"We need every single Elite to contribute to the Quest!" Zachariah insists like a needy child, continuing to pound madly at the door. "We _need_ you, milady!"

The door is as good as dead if I don't think fast. I blurt out the first thing that comes into my mind.

"I-I'M CHANGING!"

"...Ah. I...I see." Zachariah mumbles awkwardly. A pregnant silence permeates throughout the stiff guild air. After a few seconds, I hear him shuffling a little ways away from the door, as though to give me additional personal space.

I heave a massive sigh of relief until the knight speaks his next words in a much more optimistic tone. "So good of you to change your mind! Well then, I shall see you this evening before the Quest Board!" His flighty footsteps then soon vanish into the distance. _Pranced off somewhere for Quest preparations, no doubt._

I resist the strong urge to face palm, for Zachariah has clearly misinterpreted my excuse as me grudgingly accepting the call to action. I wonder how such a dense human being has managed to survive for this long. Maybe sheer luck? Or perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye, like Frieda said before?

...Well, whatever. Let him think what he wants for now; it's clearly effective in driving him off.

As for me...

...I think I'll just go about having a peaceful, quiet day.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Stellie! Are you ready to bake your heart out?" Priscilla calls merrily, waving me over as I enter the bakery. Beside the Courageous Elite, Lance clutches onto Mustachio Pete protectively and lets out a gruff sigh. Various tools and ingredients litter the counter before them.

It takes me about five seconds to realize what exactly is going on here.

Oh, right. This is my punishment for arguing with Lance before...and I almost completely forgot about it. Lord knows what might've happened to me if I hadn't happened to have walked in for a belated breakfast. Maybe Priscilla really would have baked me alive if I had been late or skipped. Now _that's_ a frightening image.

"Er...yes." I mumble, making my way over to the counter where Priscilla and Lance await. It's probably best to not admit that I had almost forgotten about my promise. "Uh, so what are we making?"

"Hmph! The first thing you should do before entering the kitchen is wash your hands," Lance snickers, pointing to a small bowl of water and suds, "not ask questions about the end product."

"I know _that_ much at least!" I shoot back angrily, not in the mood to get into another argument. "What's wrong with being a little curious?!"

"Don't 'cha know, girl? Curiosity killed the cat!" Mustachio Pete cackles, leaping to Lance's defense.

"Now, now, you two..." Priscilla says sternly, cutting in before the quarrel escalates any further, "let's not have a repeat of yesterday!" At the mention of yesterday's events, both Lance and I pale and shut our sassy mouths.

"Stellie, you'd better wash up. Good hygiene is very important when preparing food." the baker says lightly. "And do try to be as neat as possible. I wasn't able to find any spare aprons for y'all."

At her suggestion, I slam my hands into the bowl of water and furiously scrub my skin, then pat myself dry with a clean rag. I flash an anxious smile to Priscilla, who seems satisfied with me following her instructions. So long as I don't get screamed at or attacked again, I'm happy.

"And as for you, Lancie, since you've already washed yourself..." Priscilla swiftly plucks Mustachio Pete from the ventriloquist's hands and places the puppet on a high shelf. Lance begins sputter incomprehensible phrases in protest, but the baker silences him with a giant grin. "You'll be needing _both_ of your hands for baking, sweetheart. You can get Pete back when y'all are done with your barley bread."

"B-But..." Lance stammers, still trying to make a compelling case for himself.

_**"BARLEY BREAD NOW, PUPPET LATER."**_ the baker hisses, suddenly taking on a dark, grossly tone of voice. Her gentle facial features twitch with quiet, concealed rage.

"Y-Yes!" Lance yips, immediately snapping back in line. "Er...I s-suppose I don't want to dirty Mustachio Pete with anything."

_Oh, gimme a break,_ I think, rolling my eyes_. He's still keeping up that bratty attitude of his!_ Is he really_ that_ emotionally dependent on Pete?

"Good! I'm glad we see eye-to-eye, darling!" Priscilla chirps, regaining her sunshine-and-lollipops personality. "Let's get started, shall we? First step is to mix barley flour, wholemeal flour, and salt!" She glances at Lance and I expectantly. We stare blankly back.

"How much of each ingredient do we need...?" I inquire slowly, not sure if the baker will tolerate any questions.

"If you must know, 227 grams of barley flour, 455 grams of wholemeal flour, and one teaspoon of salt," Priscilla replies, firing off numbers like Ellanora would.

"And have we got a scale and measuring spoons to get the proper amounts?" Lance asks, raising an eyebrow. Quickly glancing over the tools scattered about the cluttered counter, I don't see anything that even vaguely resembles measuring equipment.

"Nope!" Priscilla responds cheerily. "Couldn't find any in the bakery. We're just gonna hafta wing it!"

"Wing it?" Lance repeats dubiously, obviously not pleased at the idea of throwing random things into a bowl and hoping for the best.

"Yes, dearie. In fact, since you seem so enthusiastic about it, you can be in charge of the dry ingredients, Lancie!" the Elite Baker beams, placing multiple pouches in front of the baffled Wise student.

"Wh-What..." Lance sputters, but for once has the common sense to not talk back.

"Estelle, you do the wet ingredients!" Priscilla orders, placing a collection of foreign looking bottles and containers in front of me. "Add 14 grams of yeast to a little ale so that it forms a creamy paste. Then mix in the rest of the ale, two teaspoons of clear honey, and 473 milliliters of warm water. And don't you worry none 'bout the ale. Baking bread'll make the alcohol content evaporate. It'd be awful bad if we got drunk offa it, ya know. Anyway, did you get all that?"

"Huh?" I gawk at the baker, the words falling out of her mouth like an alien language.

Next to me, Lance has torn into a bag of flour with a bit too much force, sending a cloud of powder up into the air and dusting all three of us in it. The ventriloquist launches into a short for of coughs, sending even more flour awry. If Lance is struggling with the easiest part of the recipe, I can only imagine how badly I'll screw up,

"Just go with your gut!" Priscilla advises, giving the most unhelpful tip she can possibly offer. "And when both of you are done, just pour the wet into the dry ingredients and mix until you get a dough. I'll take over then."

"I don't suppose it's too late to ask for some help?"

"Don't ask me!" the female Elite insists, waving a pudgy hand at me. "Ask Lance! And expect him to ask you questions, too! This is _your _bonding time, remember? I'm just here to supervise and guide y'all along the way!"

I groan, casting a sideways glance at my unfortunate baking partner to see what he has to say on the matter. The ventriloquist seems much too concentrated on his current task (or rather, on the ultimate goal of retrieving Mustachio Pete) to pay attention to my distress. Lance is staring at the mountain of flour he has heaped into a bowl, trying to access whether or not it is too much or too little for the barley bread.

Well, might as well get started on my part, I figure. My hands hesitantly hover over the glob of ingredients before me, not knowing what to pull or how much to dump in. Eventually, I manage to fumble with the yeast and ale, resulting in a weird frothy concoction. I pour some indeterminate amount of water, ale, and a few spoonfuls of honey along with the foam and pray that I did it correctly.

Lance continuously takes away and adds various amounts of flour in separate containers until he feels satisfied with the ratio of barley to wholemeal. Then, and only then, does he have the courage to throw some salt into a third bowl.

As we struggle with basic baking preparation, Priscilla cheerily hums as she watches us. She occasionally checks on the heat of the oven's open flames, poking at its coals with a fire poker. I get the feeling that if we dare misbehave, the baker would have few qualms about driving that fire poker into an eyeball or two. Luckily, we're more so avoiding each other and focusing on our own contributions to the final product rather than interacting with one another. Our eyeballs will live another day.

Pretty soon, Lance and I have managed to somehow complete our individual tasks. We're on the verge of making actual dough, minus the bloodshed of us at each others' throats. It's a miracle.

"...Uh, Lance? I think that's a little too much salt." I pipe up, staring at the ludicrous amount he is about to add to his flour mixture. "The recipe said only one teaspoon, right? That seems like a whole lot more than one teaspoon."

"I don't _need_ you telling me what to do," Lance says, dumping all the salt in anyway. Glancing over at my liquid ingredients, he smirks and remarks, "That doesn't look too promising, either."

"This is what it's supposed to look like!" _I think so, at least..._ "But thank you for that comment anyway," I retort as politely as I can, knowing that Priscilla is watching. In go the contents of my bowl into Lance's. An act of rebellion, if you will.

"_You_ mix it," the ventriloquist insists, grimacing at the union of dry and wet substances. "My hands need to be clean, or else I will dirty Mustachio Pete."

"Your hands are already filthy with flour," I point out, which only deepens Lance's frown.

"I don't want to get any _filthier_ than I already am," he clarifies sharply. "Look, just make this easier for the both of us and do it, will you? Don't waste any more of my time!"

"Hmph, fine!" I grumble, not wanting to waste any more energy in arguing with the brat. All I want is some breakfast, and then I'll be on my merry way. "But just so we're clear," I lower my voice so that Priscilla doesn't hear me, "I'm _not_ enjoying your company."

"I could say the same to you."

What a _great_ afternoon this is turning out to be.

* * *

Once I've managed to get the ingredients sticking together into a ball, Lance pulls the baker over to inspect our work. As though inspecting roadkill, Priscilla carefully pokes and prods at the dough to gauge its worthiness to be put in the oven. I suppose it looks and feels correct, as the Courageous student soon proceeds to plop the dough into a bigger bowl and cover the top with a cloth.

"Uh, what are you _doing_?" Lance demands as observes Priscilla place the covered bowl by a window, the sunlight streaming in.

"We're letting the dough rest for a few minutes. It's called proofing," the baker explains, bringing a finger to her lips, as though she has just revealed a harrowing secret. "The ball should double in size from the gases that the yeast produces. We get rid of the excess gas by punching the dough-" Priscilla pauses to pantomime the motion with a dark smile, "-and then we slice it up and let it bake for some time! Easy as pie, right?"

"Y-Yeah..." I stammer, avoiding her chaste, predatory eyes. I wonder if rage mode Priscilla makes pies out of the blood, sweat, and tears of her enemies.

_I'm less concerned with the ease and more about that creepy grin you just pulled...and even worse, how innocently you tried to pass it off as!_ I'm honestly beginning to think that Priscilla mistreats dough just as much as she mistreats human beings. _She must be a closet sadist or something..._

"Can I have Mustachio Pete back now?" Lance whines, glancing longingly at his puppet companion, lying haphazardly next to the bowl of dough.

"Not until the bread is done!" Priscilla replies, wagging a finger at the ventriloquist. "I'll keep an eye out on the dough 'n prep it for the oven. You should have a nice, long chat with Estelle while you wait, y'hear? After all, you hardly spoke to one another when ya put the ingredients together."

The baker turns her back on us to tend to the oven fire, but Lance and I both know very well that her ears are primed to pick up on any mischief we may get ourselves into. We pass each other strained glances, not sure exactly where or how to begin a discussion. _She really __**is**__ pushing this friendship thing, isn't she? _I cringe at the thought of carrying a decent, prolonged conversation with Lance-and can only expect that he is having similar thoughts.

"So..." I say slowly, taking the awkward initiative to start us off, "you really like Mustachio Pete, huh? Did you get it as a gift or something?"

"_He_," Lance corrects me venomously, genuinely insulted that I had referred to Pete as an '_it_', "Mustachio Pete is a _he_. Get it _right_ if you are going to spout his name from your unworthy lips."

"My bad," I say sarcastically, earning myself a cross look from the short boy. "Look, all I wanna know is why a puppet is so important to you. I mean, I've had my share of favorite storybooks, but I'm not that protective of them."

"You wouldn't _understand_," Lance insists stubbornly, "Mustachio Pete is no _mere_ puppet. He is my confidant-he cannot be replaced. We've been through thick and thin together!"

"O-_kaaaaay..._" I'm beginning to think that he's a bit too attached to the puppet. Lance is sounding more and more like a psychopath who likes his toys _waaay_ too much. Of course, saying any of that out loud would warrant another punishment from Priscilla, so I steer the conversation down a different route. "Did you get Mustachio Pete as a child?"

"I _made_ Mustachio Pete," the ventriloquist clarifies, "when I was small." He pauses to smirk at his own accomplishment, sticking his nose up in the air. "Quite impressive, wouldn't you say?"

_Well, that explains the comedically large mustache..._and I wonder what Endi, the Elite Craftsman, would have to say concerning Pete's craftsmanship?

"You must've had a lot of free time, then." I remark, not willing to stroke the brat's already massive ego. "Lots and lots of free time."

"Like you spent your childhood doing anything more productive!" Lance scoffs, taking a jab at my pride. "I suppose you shut yourself away from the rest of the world, huddled up in your bedroom and reading silly old fairy tales?"

"At least I was _educating_ myself," I counter, getting defensive. "My parents were never around, so the stories I read taught me lessons that they never could."

"You get tired of books after a while," Lance retorts, rolling his eyes at me. "Mustachio Pete, on the other hand, never stops being interesting."

I raise an eyebrow at my fellow Wise student. Suddenly, this has become a debate over whose hobby is better-but at least it's some sort of discussion, which keeps Priscilla from clocking us in the head. Speaking of the baker, out of the corner of my eye, I see her unveiling the dough from its bowl and tossing it onto a floured counter. Showcasing her widest smile, she brings her plump fist down upon the dome of dough so hard, it nearly causes the foundations of the bakery to rattle and shake.

Lance and I, of course, cast her stares of terror. When Priscilla notices us, her grin only broadens. "Oh, don't mind me, y'all. Just 'bout to put this in the bake, y'see! Carry on your conversation!" As she speaks, she continues to work with her hands, drawing a knife across the dough and separating it into two clean halves, then reshaping them into definite balls.

"Uh..." Lance pauses, clearing his throat, if only to buy time to think of a topic. "I happen to like the tale of Pinocchio." _Only because of the abundance of puppets,_ I'm sure.

"The classics are fine, but new, innovative ones are just as good." I agree, taking more of an interest in the talk now that the subject is in my favor. "I remember reading a story where a prince sets off to rescue a princess in a deep slumber-but then he faces the moral dilemma of whether or not he should wake her up."

In the background, Priscilla hums a song as she slides the dough into the blazing oven with a wooden implement resembling a giant spatula. I think the same instrument is used to put pizza pies in to bake. Hm...from what I have read up on, I believe it is called a peel.

"Isn't the prince supposed to wake the princess up, no matter what?" Lance sneers, getting a big ahead of himself. "You know, with a mushy kiss or whatever. You're telling me the plot of freaking Sleeping Beauty. It's predictable."

"Not exactly," I explain slowly, trying to articulate my words in a meaningful way. "The witch who cursed the princess appears and tells the prince that the princess wants to dream forever, and that waking her up will only cause her more suffering. Technically, the story never concludes-the last page has the prince questioning what his next action should be."

"The witch could have been lying," Lance points out, his eyes lined with a crafty glint. "That's clearly a possibility. The bad guys always lie." He pauses, his expression souring. "No, on second thought, _people_ in general always lie."

"That's just what stories are," I confess, "_Possibilities_. Escapes from reality. The witch could be lying, or she could be telling the truth. The prince can save the princess, or he won't. The princess could keep dreaming, or she can be given a rude awakening. Perhaps we will never know."

"You're _weird_," Lance declares after giving me a long, hard look in the face. "You overthink the simplest of things."

"You're the weird one, acting like a puppet is your best friend," I argue back. Although if I had to be completely truthful, every single one of the Elites is _quirky_ in their own way. Whether that is bad or good, I've yet to say for sure.

"What-" the ventriloquist's face flushes red with rage-and maybe also embarrassment. His mouth flies open to defend Mustachio Pete, but Priscilla cuts him off.

"Doesn't that barley bread smell so good?" the bubbly baker inquires, stuffing herself between Lance and I. "It should be done pretty soon. Then you can each take your share with ya on the Quest."

"You're going on the Quest?" I echo, gaping at Priscilla and Lance.

"We all are, aren't we?" Priscilla asks, cocking her head in confusion. "Carina told us at the mornin' briefing that participation was mandatory. Though I s'ppose this is the first you've heard of it, since I don't recall seeing ya earlier, Stellie."

"Hmph," Lance grumbles, staring at his own shoes, which are covered in flour. "It had better be worth my time, or I'll be pissed."

"Oh...I see..." I shrink unenthusiastically. If all the other Elites are Questing, then there's a good chance I'll get pressured into joining as well.

"Don't you worry none, sweetheart. Carina's got it all fixed, you'll see." Priscilla reassures me. "Everything'll be fine-and we'll be out of this here Story in no time."

"R-Right..." My stomach lurches at the suggestion. It seems I am in the minority group when it comes to escape.

"Anywho, you children seem to be getting along much better than before!" Priscilla grins, acting like a proud, doting mother. I'm glad she has decided to change the topic, because I was starting to feel uncomfortable with the previous one. "See, I just knew you could be friends!"

"We're _not_ friends," Lance and I insist in unison, making the baker giggle a bit. If there is one thing that we all share, its stubbornness, an unwillingness to yield.

"Stellie, Lancie, listen to me!" Priscilla puts both of her hands on either one of our shoulders, causing us to both lock up. We do not dare to move a muscle. "You guys are _flour_!"

"...What?"

"You're _flour_!" Priscilla repeats knowingly, nodding at us. "Flour makes up the majority of baking recipes. It's a very important ingredient-but no one ever eats raw flour, ya know. You need water for liquid, butter for richness, sugar for sweetness, baking soda for leavening, eggs for air...ya see what I mean?"

"Not really," Lance admits, shrugging. He doesn't seem to particularly care for her out-of-left-field declaration.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, flour can never be completely on its own. It needs other ingredients to bring out the best in its own flavor. They all help one another to create one big, delicious _cake_!" Priscilla explains, firmly asserting her extended baking metaphor. "A cake being a common goal, of course!"

A common goal...and in this case, escape. Can we really do it, being as different as we are? As kooky as we are? As polarized as we are? With me not even _wanting_ to leave? I'm doubtful, but do not risk speaking up against Priscilla, especially after she has mustered so much effort into her "you are flour" speech.

"Cake sounds good right about now," Lance mutters, his gaze lingering on the empty shelves of the bakery. "Why is this the one shop that isn't stocked with food? Things would be so much easier if we didn't have to work for our meals."

"Well, baked goods can get stale or grow mold," Priscilla points out, "and we should be grateful that there are at least ingredients we can use."

"Meat can spoil, but there still stuff at the butcher's," Lance complains. It seems he won't let up on the argument-he's determined to come out on top.

"It's probably preserved with salt," I explain to him, "that's how they kept edibles fresh without refrigeration in the old days."

"...Oh." Lance, obviously not well-versed in the matter, quickly throws out an excuse. "W-Whatever, it's not like that's important information or anything!"

"You're just jealous that I know something you don't."

"N-No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. You definitely, definitely are."

"Yeah? Well, I bet I know a ton of things you don't!"

"Like what? Fun facts about puppets?"

"So?! Puppets are cool!"

"Tee-hee! It looks like you two are getting along just swimmingly, just like siblings." Priscilla notes, watching us quarrel in a light hearted manner. "Ah, hold on. I'm going to check on the bread."

The baker rushes over to the oven, pulling the loaves out on their peel. She whips around to us, wearing a crestfallen expression. "Oh dear. They're done, but...well...see for yourselves." Priscilla presents Lance and I with our handiwork.

Our _horrible_ handiwork, I soon realize. From my understanding, bread is supposed to rise upon baking, but our dough did the exact opposite. It sort of...caved in on itself, forming a crater in the center. Because of this, it must have cooked unevenly, for the middle looks somewhat blotchy, while the sides appear ashy and dark.

"You screwed up the yeast," Lance announces, quick to blame me for our failure. He stares at me with beady, accusing eyes.

"W-What?! How is this all my fault?!" I demand, momentarily forgetting Priscilla's presence. "You didn't add enough flour, so the batter didn't bake correctly!"

"Or maybe it didn't bake correctly because you put in too much liquid!"

"You threw in a mountain of salt! That must have interfered with the cooking!"

"Yeah, well you-"

"But you were the one who-"

"Now, now, let's settle down. You two were just acting like friends a short while ago." Priscilla advises, putting a cap on our tomfoolery. "So the barley bread doesn't look all that great. Big deal. I'm sure it tastes okay." She removes the loaves from the oven and sets them on the counter to cool.

"I still think it was _your_ fault!" Lance and I chant in unison, glaring at the other. Whatever fragile relation we had before instantly crashes and burns.

"It's no one's fault," Priscilla insists sternly, glancing from me to Lance and back. "Y'all just aren't use to baking, is all. It's no problem-the point of gettin' together today wasn't to make something that'd knock your socks right off, it was to get to know one another. 'N from the looks of things, it was a succe-"

"Hey, there you guys are!" a familiar voice calls out, interrupting the Courageous Elite. All eyes steer toward the doorway to see Thomas standing there, out of breath and with various clothing hanging from his arms. One of the outfits is eerily familiar-and it doesn't take me long to figure out why.

_That's my Quest attire_. The white gown with the black bodice. The leather boots. The hood and cloak of a blood red color.

"Oh? Were you looking for us, Thomas?" Priscilla inquires as the courier approaches in a hurry. "We were just in the middle of baking some barley bread. Unless it's super urgent..."

"Carina says to quickly get changed and meet on the first floor of the guild," Thomas informs us, panting slightly. He must have sprinted here if he's _this_ winded. The courier holds out the clothing in his arms as though making an offering. I assume what is not mine is either Priscilla or Lance's.

"My, that sounds mighty bad! Has something come up?" Priscilla asks nervously, concern flickering across her rounded face.

"Can't be worse than the _crappy _bread we made." Lance huffs, still maintaining his rotten attitude on his baked good.

"This is _actually_ serious," Thomas affirms solemnly. He hesitates before announcing the dreaded words, "We need to prepare for the Quest."

* * *

_I can't believe this is happening,_ I think to myself as I stand in a crowd of strangely dressed Elites. I'm in my own Quest clothing, if only because my usual school uniform is covered in flour. Everyone looks like a character out of a fantasy book, sporting tunics, gauntlets, satchels, and any other assortment of medieval attire you can possibly imagine. Some of us have entirely new clothing altogether, like Zachariah's suit of armor, but others simply have additional accessories, like bags or breast plates, tacked on to their school uniforms for practical purposes.

Speaking of the white knight, it's hard not to spot him right away in his shining armor. He's wedged near the front of the Elites, the complete opposite of me. Zachariah _wants_ to get involved. He _wants_ to actively participate. _What a fool._

I could easily spend the entire day ogling clothing and describing the other Elites' adventuring attire in excruciating detail-and honestly, I'd rather do that than a Quest. Yeah, _right._ Everyone knows _that's_ not happening.

I would bet that everyone has their E-Scroll somewhere on them, as per the Story's rules. Mine, as well as the loaf of barley bread I never got to taste, are stowed away in a brown cloth pouch hanging on a string from my waist. I suppose if I ever get bored on this Quest, I can pull out the scroll to read and munch on horribly made bread as I do it.

"Ah-hem!" Carina clears her throat, silencing the group of rowdy, anxious Elites. She, our quietly self-proclaimed leader, stands before the crowd in thick leather bracers, shin guards, and a utility belt. This makes Icarus look the most normal out of any living thing present. "I would like to call this assembly to order.

"As you all know, we were told yesterday by a...Narrator owl fellow...the one way we can escape the Story. That is to say, completing Quests." Carina gestures to the bulletin board behind her-once barren, now filled to the brim with sheets of paper tacked up.

"Since this morning, there has been a large influx of Quests on the board. I have gone to the trouble of sorting through them, and unfortunately, the majority of the Quests as of now are one note, minor tasks that yield very little Experience. This is rather troublesome, as I'm sure that all of you would prefer to leave as soon as possible."

_Make that __**most **__of us,_ I silently correct the falconer.

"However, do not fret. I was able to locate one Quest that far surpassed the others in terms of Experience rewarded. It is certainly more challenging than the others, but with the combined strength of sixteen students, I would hope that we may be able to complete it."

At this, the majority of the Elites murmur amongst themselves in excitement. I shrink farther back into the crowd. A shame that they're getting so elated to return to a mundane realm of everyday despair.

"U-Um...just what does this h-hard Quest involve, exactly?" Ellanora squeaks anxiously, wringing her hands together in worry.

"It's difficult to explain..." Carina replies, glancing at Icarus, who holds a folded piece of paper in his beak. "But essentially, we must hunt down and slay a Manifestation in the Woods."

"What the hell is that? A Manifestation, or whatever, I mean!" Johanna demands, the vagueness of Carina's instructions putting the boxer on edge.

"According to the Quest," Carina says, taking the paper from Icarus and reading verbatim from the sheet, "'A Manifestation ranks lower than a Familiar in terms of combat capabilities, for they are mere monsters formed from the remnants of stray Magic. During the night, they appear in the Woods, stalking their prey. Unlike Familiars and Witches, they are able to be slain with brute force-but as the physical form of Manifestations can vary, their weaknesses are difficult to gauge.'"

"Whoa," Jaxon gapes at the mere thought of such a creature. "those things sound really hardcore..."

"It matters not what shape the _ilk_ takes! Surely we can defeat any matter of vile trickery it attempts!" Zachariah reassures his classmate cheerily.

"We have to actually end something's life?" Endi repeats, starting to look rather shaken. "I...I don't think I'm ready to do that!"

"You _will_ if you want to make it out of here-or at the very least contribute to tracking it down," Carina retorts coolly, dealing the craftsman the harsh truth. "As the Quest says, we cannot anticipate what beastly form a Manifestation may take on. All that we know is that they lurk in the woods at night time."

"Eh? But the forest will be so _dark_ then!" Nissa cries, pouting at the prospect. "Won't it be hard to see? And won't it be easy to get lost?"

"We will be traveling in small groups," Carina explains carefully, glancing over the Elites with a sharp eye, "so that navigation and mobility will be less hindered. It will also be easier to track a Manifestation if we cover a larger area with multiple search groups. Should any one group encounter the Manifestation, one scout should take off and find others to aid their party in fighting the monster."

"I call _not_ being in the boxer's group," Lance pipes up immediately. A smart move on his part, since Johanna tried to give him a bloody nose the last time they had interacted. Unfortunately, this warns Lance nothing more than an unamused expression from Carina.

"Too _bad,_ Mister Hawthorn. I have already predetermined the groups based on individual skill sets. There needs to be at least one capable fighter in each group in case of emergencies, as well as those with supportive mindsets to balance things out.

"Meh, Birdbrain really thought this through..." Mana grumbles under her breath. She has quickly lost interest in the spiel and is probably just waiting for the part where she gets to hit something.

"Goodness knows what would happen if you were allowed to pick your own group members," Carina continues, ignoring the mercenary's comment, "The like-minded would flock together, creating extremely polarized, all-or-nothing, brains-or-brawny sort of teams."

"But-"

"This is a serious situation, Mister Hawthorn. Even if this...this Manifestation creature is of the lowest ranking in terms of magical prowess, failure could mean _death_. I'm sure Manifestations would have absolutely _no qualms_ about killing off anything in its path. If you wish to keep your life, you _will_ cooperate."

This shuts Lance up, sending him back into a grudging silence. The threat of death looms overhead like a guillotine. One wrong move is all it takes to off our heads.

"..._Why_?" I demand slowly, raising my voice to speak against Carina. All heads turn to stare at me. "Why are we even considering such a dangerous thing? This is a life or death situation!"

I don't _dare_ suggest that we spend the rest of our lives in Halkyonia, knowing that I will be vastly outnumbered. Instead, I spit out, "Why not just take smaller Quests and slowly accumulate Experience?! Why not be patient instead of jumping the gun to hunt down a monster?! Do you not care about your _life_?!"

"Do you not care for your _freedom_?" Carina shoots back, calmly countering my rhetorical question. "To gain that which is worth having, one must be willing to lose something of equal or greater value. This is the risk we must take to fight the Curse-and every last one of us must be united if we are to leave this accursed place sooner."

"That's stupid...that's _so_ stupid!" I sputter, unable to conjure up much more of an argument. Everyone is against me. So _hopeful_, so eager, so looking forward to escaping the Story...and then there's _me_, struggling to maintain my spot as a Character.

"Stupid as you claim it to be, this is the course of action we have decided to collectively take," Carina replies icily. She redirects her attention to the Elites as a whole. "Now then, if there are no more objections, I shall announce the groups. Please go to your teammates when your names are called.

Obviously defeated, I slink back into the crowd. _I wasn't heard out..._Try as I might, the story continues to proceed, whether I want it to or not.

"Priscilla, Nissa, Michael, and Cado."

"Just don't slow me down," Michael hastily tells his future group members, "and we'll get along just fine." He shoves his hands into his pockets and tries to act all cool and edgy about it.

"I...I'll try to be of use...and to not slow you down." Cado promises, offering a waning smile. He's probably going to be the powerhouse of the team, given that he's the muscular one.

"Oh, this is kind of exciting," Priscilla chirps, bounding over to the blacksmith and bandit. A shiver races down my spine when I lay eyes on her. On second though, maybe Priscilla will be helpful to them as well (if she gets _pissed _enough, that is). "I'll make some bread for us!"

"G-Guys, I'm kind of scared of the dark...so can we make getting light a priority over food? Pretty please?" Nissa squeals, racing over at light speed. Her usual optimism is replaced with slight anxiety.

"Mana, Endi, Ellanora, and Thomas."

"Whoo! Score! No Space Case!" the mercenary cheers, pumping her fists into the air. Meanwhile, Jaxon somewhat deflates. "Alright, who's ready to kick some _ass_?"

"I'm not too thrilled..." Endi admits, only to get slapped hard on the back from Mana. The craftsman almost falls flat on his face from the sheer force.

"Come on, buck up!" Mana commands, as though that will instantly make Endi's pain and worry dissipate. "We're gonna nail that Mani-thingy where the sun don't shine! Until then, you guys gotta call me Captain, 'kay?"

"I'll try to do my best, er...Captain." Thomas says, awkwardly laughing along with Mana's rowdiness. "I'll carry supplies in my satchel, if that helps."

"Th-There's a 6.34% chance that I'll a-actually be useful...I'm sorry in a-advance if I don't do much to help..." Ellanora mumbles, already apologizing before she has messed anything up.

I can only see _great_ things resulting from this group dynamic.

"Jaxon, Johanna, Lance, and myself."

"Shit," Johanna growls, proceeding to launch into a long train of cuss words, "shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_!"

"Oh, great," Lance groans, face palming. "Perfect, just _perfect_. This is _exactly_ what I wanted," he spews, his sarcasm apparent. Apparently, the ventriloquist and boxer are not the only ones who are unhappy with their arrangement.

"Whaaaat?! I get stuck with you, Carina?! Not cool!" Jaxon protests, only to get completely snubbed by Carina. "H-Hey! Quit ignoring me, will ya? Cut a guy some slack, here!"

"Moving on...the next team-"

_Crap,_ I think as a horrible realization dawns on me, _That leaves me with..._

"Zachariah, Ricard, Estelle, and Frieda."

I glance up slowly, and the first person I make eye contact with is the knight at the front of the group of Elites. Zachariah. He beams at me, no doubt elated with the turn of events. I cringe, anticipating the return of his over-the-top behavior.

Suddenly, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Upon veering around, I'm greeted by the resident Elite Hunter, rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I look forward to working with you, Estelle." Ricard says pleasantly. Great-at least I have one sane character in my group. That doesn't, however, guarantee my _own _sanity once I return from this insane adventure.

"Hee hee...as do I." Frieda adds, popping up by my side as though by magic. "I wonder what kinds of sounds a Manifestation makes..."

"The foul, monstrous roars of a demonic _hellspawn _itself, no doubt!" Zachariah declares, nearly tackling through the other Elites to meet his team members. "I am certain that our group will be most successful in this Quest! What say you, comrades?!"

We're _royally screwed._

"Those are the final groups," Carina declares, giving us one last cursory glance, "No ifs, ands, or buts. Please take the rest of the day to make your Quest preparations, and be in the Woods by 10:00 pm."

The hunt for the Manifestation begins _tonight._

Well, so much for peace and quiet.

* * *

"What have you done? This was _not_ an authorized move. The Characters are in great danger now…"

"Those that disrupt the flow of the Story must be purged from it. If allowed to run rampant, the entire Script could unravel. All it takes is one out-of-place trump card or self insert to ruin it for us. That is all I have to say for myself."

"…Well, it is too late to take it back now. All we can do now is sit by and see how it goes."

"Like good little Readers, yes?"

"Indeed. That is, after all, what Readers do-they watch the Story unfold."

"Think it'll be entertaining at all...?"

"Perhaps. We shall soon see, I suppose."

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Estelle seems to have quite the...unique...perspective on their situation, huh? Very different from other Danganronpa protagonists, and not very hopeful of her. Whether that's good or bad is up to you to decide!**

**The baking scene with Priscilla and Lance was so mundane and ordinary that is was actually quite hard to do! I had to actually research what types of breads were made in the medieval ages, and I even used an old barley bread recipe that I found online to write Priscilla's lines. The things I do for OMMM...**

**Looks like the Elites are going to hunt down a mysterious Manifestation! Ooh, how exciting! Next chapter will be a lot of action, so hopefully I can get that written well. I don't have a lot of experience writing fight scenes, but I'll try to do my best.**

**Update on the poll: every character has at least one vote, so it's safe to say that the Elites are universally likable. Yes, even Lance. And yes, even some of the non-Elite characters like Fukushi and Icarus. Actually, what's kind of sad is that Fukushi raked in more votes than some of the students (including Estelle and Zachariah)...well, at least we have a lovable little Narrator, right? He doesn't seem to be around for this chapter, but he'll show up next time.**

**Anyway, I'm returning to university in about a week, so expect less frequently updates...I'll see you guys in the next chapter, which hopefully won't take months and months to get out.**


	7. A Challenger Appears

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, a HERO was called to ACTION-but the HERO refused to ACT.**_

_**And...that's it.**_

_**You cannot have a STORY if the HERO does not wish for one to occur.**_

_**...Or can you?**_

* * *

"This is absolutely _crazy_," I mutter under my breath, throwing my hood up and tugging my crimson cloak tightly around myself. Flanked on either side of me are Frieda and Zachariah (the later wielding a lit torch), while Ricard is up front, the teeth of his rifle ready to sink its fangs into something, anything.

The woods have taken on a dark chill during the night time, causing my words to spiral forth as a white puff of air. Hanging high overhead is the moon, gazing at us poor, unfortunate souls from behind various treetops. The stars twinkle softly, clashing with the eerie glow of fire against our skin. Illuminated in the pale light, we are but virgin sacrifices awaiting slaughter at the hands of a wild beast.

I wonder what my mother and father would have to say about my situation. Their only child wandering the desolate woods with some strangers in weird cosplay...if they knew that enrolling me in Camelot would result in this, chances are, they wouldn't have forced me to accept the invitation in the first place.

"Ricard is the only one with a weapon," I point out to my group members as we tromp through the forest, "and do you _honestly_ think bullets will work against a Manifestation? They're borne of Familiar Magic, remember? It can take on any form it wants! We'll be torn to shreds!"

"Let's try to not be so pessimistic," the Elite Hunter suggests, tossing a concerned glance over his shoulder. "From what Carina said, the Manifestation isn't capable of using Magic. So...it must use a normal animal form-and so long as it's in a familiar shape, I can probably...er...you know." Ricard pantomimes shooting a gun with his hands. He seems uncomfortable with the motion, playing it off with an anxious grin.

"It seems Sir Ricard will be outshining my combat skills tonight," Zachariah sighs, looking somewhat dejected, "for I am without a trusty sword or shield. Have faith in him, milady!"

"Quite right," Frieda chimes in softly, her voice nearly melding with the whistle of the wind, "and surely you don't take this foolish talk of Curses and Witches _seriously_. I would have expected more from a Wise student."

"And just what are you implying?" I demand haughtily, planting my hands on my hips.

The Elite Composer showcases a sly grin on the verge of dipping into dangerous smirk territory. "They're code words for something else, of course. Fukushi clarified a few of them for us. The Story encompasses the Woods and Village, the areas we occupy. We, the students, are called Characters. That must mean that those other vague terms refer to other things-after all, magic isn't real."

"Of course I know that!" I sputter back, annoyance ringing my cheeks pink. "All I'm saying is that we could have stayed safe and sound in Halkyonia, but _noooo_, we have to go hunting a creature whose face we don't even know instead! Look, being Characters doesn't protect us from harm out here-so it's better if we turn around and march back to the village right now."

"Where is thy sense of adventure, milady?" Zachariah gasps, appalled by my suggestion. The flames of his torch cast a golden glow on his enthusiastic face, throwing bits of light off of his armor. He's practically a human disco ball. "The _adrenaline_ pumping through thy blood streams! The gale of wind _whipping_ through thy hair! The call to _action_!"

The terror _ripping_ through my gut, the wind howling at our _demise_, the world refusing me any _semblance_ of peace and quiet...oh, _yeah_. How the _hell _could I ever lack a sense of adventure?

"Where is your _sanity_?" I mutter under my breath, averting my gaze before my retinas are permanently damaged.

"This is really the only option we have," Ricard calls from up front, "which is playing along with Fukushi's game. I mean, the little guy seemed pretty harmless to me. Plus, he was nice enough to tell us a way out. I think the Narrator means well-he's probably watching over us right, just like he was before, when I first met you, Estelle. He'll likely pop in if things get too messy for us. And besides, Fukushi wouldn't put up a Quest that we weren't capable of doing, right?"

Darn Ricard and his naivety.

"Yes, we must put our faith in the feathered demon for now!" Zachariah agrees, accompanied by a nod from Frieda. "He is but the only source of rhyme and reason in our current situation!"

_And __**when**__ exactly did the Elite Knight decide to follow a protocol of __**rhyme and reason**__? _I want to inquire, but Frieda quickly adds her two cents in. Her dark eyes pulsate against the torchlight.

"Perhaps if we push Fukushi enough, he will share with us the true answers to our questions-or at the very least clues on the meanings of all his cryptic messages." She muses, putting a hand on her chin. "Hm...might any of you have thoughts as to what Magic may refer to?"

"Nope!" Zachariah admits optimistically, not quite taking the conversation seriously. Or maybe his head is just really _that_ empty...

"Not really, sorry. I'm trying to focus on lookout duty." Ricard replies from ahead, taking careful steps as to not disturb the forest, despite its lack of wild life. At least that makes it easy to spot the Manifestation-it'd be the only animal (or animal-_like_ creature) in the vicinity of the woods.

I slip into silence, contemplating the possibilities. A Witch used Magic to Curse the land...that would imply that the Witch was an influential figure-and then perhaps they misused what they had to hurt those around them? It makes sense in my mind, so I pipe up.

"...Maybe resources of some sort?" I offer, grabbing Frieda's attention. "The Witch had money or power, but then something went wrong and a tragedy resulted from it."

"That's as vague a response as Fukushi's answers to our questions," Frieda frowns, shaking her head in disappointment, "although I suppose that's a start."

"Well, we know it's probably not food," Ricard says, drumming his fingers against his rifle. Gazing ahead into inky darkness, he doesn't seem to pick up on anything. "The village had tons of it."

"Nor shelter or currency," Zachariah chips in, for once contributing to an intelligent, meaningful discussion. "There is an abundance of businesses and cottages."

"Then perhaps an invisible force?" I suggest, praying that if I drag on the conversation for long enough, we will get fed up with the search and retreat for the night. "Something that is there, but can't necessarily be seen or proven...like gravity, or inertia."

"Is it not much more simple to, say, drive another into ruin with physical materials rather than abstract ideas?" Frieda asks, "For example, if one were to take a pistol and shoot it at the heart, death would occur instantly...but if one were to implant the seeds of guilt into the mind, it would take much, much longer for a person to succumb to the pressure and kill themselves."

"W-Whoa, Frieda! Don't say dark things like that-you're starting to scare me!" Ricard pleads, whipping around to display a disturbed expression.

"My bad," the composer apologizes, concealing a small giggle. "But as I was saying, Estelle...what do you make of this?" Her haunting irises prod at me curiously.

"Fukushi never said whether the Curse's effects were sudden or cumulative," I reply tersely, "so we don't know for sure."

"We shall have to inquire this of the feathered demon upon our return to the village," Zachariah notes solemnly. "If only the accursed Manifestation would show its cowardly face, we would be back sooner."

"I hope it's not in a squirrel or bunny form...I don't want to hurt anything too small and cute-looking." Ricard mutters, glancing left and right for any moving shapes in the darkness.

"Would you rather it be a big bear capable of tearing through our flesh?" Frieda chuckles, earning another surprised squeak from the hunter.

"I just asked you nicely to stop that..." Ricard sighs, his muscles tensing. "Geez, are you purposefully trying to scare me?"

"I'm simply trying to keep you _on your toes_," Frieda insists innocently. "You _really_ should keep better watch."

"I'm trying my best, but it's still pretty hard to see anything up ahead." Ricard admits, scratching the back of his head. "I wonder if the other groups are having any luck..."

"I'm sure they're getting along quite well!" Zachariah beams, clearly oblivious to the horrible classmate dynamics. Yes, Carina may have designed the groups based on individual skills and abilities, but willingness to effectively cooperate is definitely compromised.

I can only imagine that Johanna and Lance are already at each others' throats, while Jaxon is whining to Carina about how boring the expedition is. Mana is no doubt fearlessly leading her rag tag team in circles (with minimum complaints from Endi, Ellanora, and Thomas). Michael is likely goofing off somewhere, leaving Nissa petrified in the dark with Cado and Priscilla.

"We _really_ are screwed," I remark to myself, face palming. Even if the Manifestation comes up as an innocent little woodland critter, it might actually do some damage to us if we can't stop bickering long enough to avoid being attacked.

"_What_ was that?" Frieda cries, veering over to stare at me with her intense gaze.

"Nothing, nothing..." I grumble, denying guilt for my previous statement. The composer only narrows her eyes suspiciously at me.

"No, not you! I most certainly heard something...something odd." Frieda whispers sharply, slowly turning her head in all directions. "Something _feral_."

"Huh? I didn't hear anything." Ricard comments, continuing to make his way deeper and deeper into the forest. Not wanting to get left behind, we trail after the gunslinger.

"As did I, Lady Frieda," Zachariah chimes in-although with that _thick skull _of his, I doubt he can really perceive many fine details in his environment. The torch he wields casts eerie shadows upon each tree we pass.

"It must be the your imagination. Someone probably stepped on a twig." I point out, earning a grimace from the Loyal Elite, who draws to a halt. The wind picks up, throwing our cloaks and capes back, billowing in the breeze. Cold nips at our skin, like knives drawing across a fresh victim.

"Stop walking," Frieda commands seriously, "and listen _carefully_."

Of course, Ricard immediately complies, forcing Zachariah and I to do the same-lest we risk wandering into the dark defenseless. We stand there, straining our ears, waiting to pick up on...I'm-not-sure-what. Maybe I'm expecting a beastly roar, or some exaggerated moaning, but nothing comes to me.

"Frieda, I don't-" I begin to protest, only to get cut off almost immediately.

"_Shhhh! _Quiet!" the composer orders, silencing me. "Try _harder._ You'll hear it."

Although frustrated, I grunt and resume...uh, listening, I suppose. I make out the haunting song of wind, and maybe tree branches smacking against each other from the former. In the far distance, there come the muted voices of the other Elites. And then...

_"Grrrrbahhhisssss..."_

"Wh-What...what is..." I sputter incomprehensibly, my body locking up why I register it-a low, grisly purr that sends fear racing down my spine. I glance at Zachariah and Ricard to gauge their reactions.

"That's _not_ a human noise," the Elite Hunter says slowly, his face petrified in a cross of terror and confusion, "and it's not like the call of any animal I've heard of."

"Perhaps...a new species?" Zachariah jokes lamely, trying to brighten up the gloomy mood. It doesn't work.

_"Grrrrbahhhisssss..."_

"Frieda...what is _that _supposed to be?" Ricard asks, quivering a little in his boots. "It sounds like someone forced a bunch of poor animals into a blender!"

"If I _knew_ what it was, do you really think I'd stop and ask you to hear it for _yourselves_?" Frieda shoots back frostily, keeping her voice down.

_"Grrrrbahhhisssss..."_

The composer pales as the growl gets louder and louder-closer and closer, like a predator closing in on its prey. Ricard steadies his grip on his rifle. I take slow, shallow breathes, careful not to give away my presence. Even Zachariah poses, still as a statue, hoping to pass as inconspicuous, despite the lit torch he has been hauling around this entire time.

All of a sudden, the sound stops-and in the distance, a faint outline becomes vaguely visible. A shape that isn't quite humanoid, a creature on all fours. Ruby red, bloodshot eyes glimmer at us from pitch black darkness. They are gleeful and demented at the same time.

_The Manifestation, _I immediately think.

"Don't...move. And stay quiet." Ricard instructs us softly through anxiously gritted teeth. "Keep it calm...It won't hurt us if we just-"

**"Be you the foul beast we have set out to slay?!" **Zachariah bellows, oblivious to the Kind boy's advice-leave it to the Courageous student to pick fights with wild animals! He marches forward and positions himself beside Ricard, staring directly into the eyes of the unknown guest.

_...Shit, _I realize, using all of my willpower to not slap the knight silly. Of _course_ the one loudmouth of the group has to ruin it for us.

"Zach, maybe it would be a good idea to be quiet..." Ricard suggests-but the knight completely snubs him, caught in the throes of confronting an enemy.

**"Come hither! Reveal unto us thy ghastly face!" **He continues, his voice revving up to an ear-shattering volume. Ricard, Frieda, and I collectively cringe, shielding our ears from being damaged. In the distance, the creature takes a step forward, still veiled mostly in darkness.

"Quit _taunting _it!" the Elite Composer spits out, temporarily losing her composure. Her eyes narrow into venomous slits. _It's a bit too late for that, _I note as Zach steamrolls on with his torrent of insults.

**"Approach if you dare, vile ilk, hellish miscreant, roguish swine! We shall make you rue the day you were born of evil and set upon this world to ruin all that is good and beautiful!**

"SHUT _UP_, ZACHARIAH!" I sputter, for each cluster of words only eggs on the Manifestation to inch closer and closer to us.

Slowly, but surely, it sweeps out of its cover of shadows and drifts toward our measly torch, a halo of light in a graveyard of depravity. Each of its features becomes sharper and more defined as it prowls on all fours. A snarl plays, followed by a hostile chorus of bleating and hisses. The head of a lion and goat, a snake head for a tail, leathery wings, and fangs as sharp as daggers...

Zachariah deflates, immediately losing his confident swagger. Ricard nearly drops his rifle in shock and fright. Frieda's mouth continuously opens and shuts like a gaping goldfish, but no words come out.

It's no singular monster, but an amalgamate of several; a mythical beast from Greek mythology.

A _chimera._

* * *

"Stay _back_!" Zachariah barks, swinging his torch back and forth in a vain attempt to drive off the Manifestation. This only angers it even more, causing the chimera to bat its claws at us. Its monstrous roar resonates throughout the entire forest. "G-Gah!" The knight cries, falling back to avoid being tossed aside like a yarn ball by a kitten.

The chimera glowers at us, pouncing forward and sending our group scrambling in different directions to avoid getting crushed. Its snake head tail lashes out at me, not quite close enough to bite me and inject poison into my blood streams, but close enough for its reptilian tongue to dart forward and lick my nose. I am both horrified and disgusted.

"E-Eeeeek! K-Keep that _thing_ away from me!" Frieda shrieks, her voice shrill and frantic. She, too, has forgotten about Ricard's advice to stay quiet. The chimera whips around to size her up, causing her to freeze up in place.

"Guys, stay calm, stay _calm_!" the hunter reminds us, terror painting his tone. "Try to distract it until-_Ooffh_!" In the middle of his sentence, Ricard is sent flying when the chimera suddenly darts forward, ramming him into a nearby tree. His rifle clatters to the ground beside him. The beast's lion head and goat head showcase twisted grins, relishing in Ricard's torture.

"S-Sir Ricard!" Zachariah gasps, gaping at the horrifying scene playing out before him. Before long, his face is flushed red with rage. Addressing the Manifestation, he yells, "I challenge thee to a _dual, _odious creature! Bare thy viscous fangs at _I_, and leave my comrade be!"

I'm still not entirely sure if the chimera can actually understand human speech, but it rapidly grows bored with Ricard and decides to hunt Zachariah instead. Veering around on its hind legs, it soars at the knight's general direction, wings outstretched, and lands before him with a thump. My eyes, affixed on the battle before me, do not allow my body to join them in combat, nor at the very least flee.

"Estelle!" Frieda hollers, staring wide-eyed at me, and snapping me out of my trance, "I-I'll try to find the other Elites. Until then, you need to keep yourself-and the boys-alive. Do you understand me?!"

"W-What?!" I stammer, looking at the composer in disbelief. "How am I supposed to-"

"Figure _something_ out!" Frieda cuts me off, pointing to the chimera, who is fast approaching Zachariah. "Distract that thing until back-up comes!" She worriedly glances over at Ricard, who fumbles around in the dark for the familiar shape of his rifle.

"Easy for _you_ to say! You won't be _here_!" I retort bitterly-but this earns me a glare from Frieda.

"I can use my _ears_ to navigate! What do _you_ have?!" She demands, the stress of the situation clearly eating away at her. "If you think I'll be abandoning you, you're wrong. I'm Loyal, remember?!" Then Frieda turns and soon darts off into nothingness, not giving me a chance to respond. I'm left with only the vague instructions to believe in her simply because of her faithfulness.

_Crap, _I think, honing in on the chimera, whose multiple jaws are snapping at Zachariah. The knight is dodging the bites with the grace of a feline, but he can't keep up forever. With no sword or shield, he is stuck with only the tactic of evasion. There's only so much he can do juggling a torch with that heavy armor on, and only so much protection the torch and armor can provide against the fangs of a monster.

I want to run. I'm quivering from head to toe, a dear caught in headlights. Still...

_"It's nice to meet you, Estelle!"_

_"I look forward to getting to know you!"_

_"I hope we can be good friends!"_

_"Let me know if you have any questions, 'kay? I'd be happy to help!"_

_"We need to work together to get this done, you know?"_

One thought appears clearly in my mind: Even if I don't exactly _love_ my classmates, I can't just stand by and let them die. A surge of energy bolts up my spine, filling me with a strange sense of urgency, a need to act. _Save him._

Before I know what I'm doing, I've launched myself at the back of the chimera, latching onto its tail and tugging with all my might. The Manifestation, of course, doesn't budge an inch, but the snake head has been temporarily subdued. It gazes at me with hideously hateful eyes, so I tighten my grip on its scaly hide to limit its mobility.

**"GRRRRRROOOOH!"** The two heads occupying the main body yelp in pain, bucking backwards to kick me off. When Zachariah gets a good look at what I'm doing, he horribly recoils with a slack jaw.

"M-Milady! What are you-" he begins, obviously appalled by my actions.

"Shut up and do some-_thiiiiiiing_!" I sputter indignantly, hanging onto the chimera's back and tail for dear life. It's hard to get my words out without my demented amusement park ride rattling to get me off.

"Er...h-hold on! I'm coming for you guys!" Ricard calls from the distance, having finally retrieved his rifle. The hunter races toward us, firearm in hand, locked and loaded.

The Manifestation's multiple ears perk up, picking up on Ricard's message. It swings around, swatting Zachariah flying into a nearby tree, and roars at Ricard. Stray embers from the torch fly out of his hands and catch fire onto the leaves and bark. Flames race along, passing its heat onto neighbors and sending the tree ablaze in seconds. The makings of a young forest fire flicker before our eyes.

Well, at least there are now no qualms about how to spot our location in the middle of the night-"EEEEP!" I let out a high-pitched scream as the chimera finally succeeds in kicking me off of its being. I collapse into the cool grass with a pounding headache and shockwaves of pain rippling throughout my entire body.

"M-Milady!" Zachariah cries, racing over to assess my condition-only to be met with the chimera's mocking snake head. "You do not terrify me, vile reptilian! Begone from my sight!" I try to move my lips to warn the knight to back off, but don't do it quickly enough.

The snake's scaly lips pull back into a crafty grin. It lunges forward like lightning, coiling itself around Zachariah like a lasso and constricting harshly. The knight, suddenly gasping for air, realizes his grave mistake. He struggles in futile against his confines, and from the forest floor, I cringe in horror.

The Manifestation, satisfied with having subdued two of its three opponents, directs its two main heads at Ricard. The hunter's rifle, guided under the veil of a burning tree, is aimed directly where the chimera's heart should be. In the middle of the chest, and slightly to the left...

"Look, I'm really sorry about this!" Ricard apologizes frantically, the hostile eyes of the chimera leering down at him, "B-But no one hurts my friends!" The three heads appear to chuckle in unison, mocking the hunter's semi-threat.

"D-Don't say I didn't warn you!" Ricard sputters, muttering one last apology before pulling the trigger. A gullet exits the barrel of his weapon and darts straight at the Manifestation with a deafening ring. Ricard jolts back from the recoil-but the chimera doesn't move.

"Wh-what? Why..." I stutter, slowly getting onto my knees-and then, I see it. Part of the chimera's flesh, the area where the heart is meant to be, has given way into a clean hole, allowing the bullet to safely pass through. Just as quickly has it had appeared, the hole soon covers itself up, fresh skin creeping over the hollow area like bandages.

_That's not right, _I realize. _Chimera can't regenerate..._

"Gnnnnkrgh!" Zachariah grunts against his restraints, the snake now tighter than ever on the knight. He looks as though he might pass out-or die. Ricard pales, disappointed at his lack of assistance.

"N-No!" I stumble forward a little, but immediately fall back onto my knees. My body is far too weak to attempt the same stunt I did before. But I can't just let him get _killed_!

What can I do? Do I have anything on me that can help? Only the E-Scroll and the nearly burnt barley bread, hard as a rock. Wait...hard as a rock?

I rustle into my leather pouch and fish out the terrible loaf. With its crisp, singed edges and flattened form, it feels like a somewhat lethal frisbee, and a decent makeshift weapon. Maybe, just _maybe..._

A melody of flying bullets interrupts my thoughts. Ricard is rapidly firing his ammunition at the chimera-in hopes of tiring it out, perhaps-but they do nothing. The Manifestation smirks, relishing in his despair.

_Okay, focus on your aim, _I tell myself quietly. _Look at your target, step forward with the leg opposite of your throwing hand, keep your arm straight...__**Now!**_

I chuck the barley bread with as much force as I can possibly muster. My poor throwing abilities only get the loaf to weakly hit the chimera's tail, resulting a whole lot of _nothing_. I wither in embarrassment. We're all going to die because I believed in Frieda's loyalty and one _measly_ piece of bread.

"Ssssssssss!" Abruptly, the snake begins to hiss, contorting itself into a knot of torment. It completely relaxes its grip on Zachariah, sending him falling to the ground and panting for air. The remainder of the Manifestation's body lurches back, howling horribly.

"W-What the..." I gape at the damage I have apparently inflicted upon the chimera tail. Have I underestimated the power of poorly crafted carbohydrates?

The snake head gives out with a volatile sigh, detaching from the main body. A cloud of steam erupts from the part where it falls from the bum, like a burn mark leftover from acid. Within seconds, it has begun to disintegrate into a pile of slimy splooge resembling crimson jelly. It hits me right there and then. The regeneration, the immunity to physical attacks, weakness to bread...maybe not the bread in particular, but the particularly high sodium content.

_"Meat preserved with salt," I had explained to Lance, "that's how they kept edibles fresh without refrigeration in the old days."_

_"W-Whatever, it's not like that's important information or anything!"_

I never thought I'd be saying this, but I really need to thank that brat for his awful measuring skills.

"That's no chimera," I croak, my voice hoarse and weak from having been thrashed about, "that's something else donning a chimera's shape and abilities! A creature with no actual skin and a high water content." That's why the salty bread made it react like that...

"That would have been most useful to know _prior_ to entering the woods!" Zachariah cries, his face a strange shade of red and blue from exhilaration and oxygen deprivation. "We have nothing of the sort to combat the demon spawn with!"

"H-How was I supposed to have known then?!" I counter, only to get interrupted by Ricard.

"Watch out, Estelle!" the hunter shouts-but it's too late. Everything happens too fast for me to slow motion, here is what I remember: the Manifestation charging past Ricard, the Manifestation knocking Zachariah aside, the Manifestation right in front of me, jaws gaping open...

...and then a column of fire rising from its throat and for my face.

I instinctively duck down in my scarlet cloak and hood, preparing to accept my demise. I have no place to run to, no more methods to fight back. I'm a dead Elite.

Rest in peace, _me._

And then I'm consumed in flames.

* * *

"...Huh?" I stare down at myself, singe free and safe. The Manifestation's flames have disintegrated upon contact with my clothing, leaving me with a warm, comforting feeling. They're _fireproof, _I realize-and suddenly, the slip of paper that Fukushi had included with the outfit makes sense.

_It's dangerous to go alone. Take these; they will help you on your Quests._

Note to self: thank the magical talking owl Narrator thingy later for saving my bum from being burnt to a crisp.

The Manifestation, baffled at the lack of corpse before it, screams in rage. It raises its claws seemingly in slow motion, intent on murdering me in my little red riding hood.

"Estelle!" Ricard yelps, his handle on his rifle faltering. The hunter's face visibly falls when he hones in on the chimera poised over me.

"Milady!" Zachariah exclaims, lunging forward in vain, hand outstretched dramatically. He is too far away to make it in time to block the blow.

_**"HOLD IT, YOU YOUNGSTERS!"**_ a familiar, squeaky voice declares from above. All heads, including the Manifestation's, crane up to see the figure of a ticked off Fukushi, its monocle glinting in the moonlight. "Just _what_ do you think you're doing?!"

"F-Fukushi..." I sputter slowly, in complete and utter shock that the Narrator would so conveniently appear before us. "Why are you..._eep_!" I jolt up when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and gaze up at Frieda.

"I _told_ you you could trust me-though I suppose that burning tree did make it all the easier to spot you from a mile away," the composer sighs, jabbing a finger at the trees surrounding the single one afire, "and look, I've brought help."

One by one, various Elites step out of the shadows. They are without weapons, but not without fury at the monster or concern for us. Some are clamoring to fight in our place, others are already preparing emergency medical supplies in case anything is broken. Fighters and supporters all gathered in one place...sixteen Elites united against a common enemy, working toward a common goal...

In that moment, Priscilla's odd baking metaphor resonates in my head.

_"You're flour, Estelle! Flour makes up the majority of baking recipes. It's a very important ingredient-but no one ever eats raw flour, ya know. You need water for liquid, butter for richness, sugar for sweetness, baking soda for leavening, eggs for air...ya see what I mean? _

_"Flour can never be completely on its own. It needs other ingredients to bring out the best in its own flavor. They all help one another to create one big, delicious cake!"_

"I think I'm actually _glad_ to see these idiots for once..." I mutter under my breath, earning a smirk from Frieda.

"Fickle, aren't you, Estelle?" she giggles softly. I allow her this one moment as a silent thanks for not abandoning us.

"Our comrades! Oh, our glorious comrades!" Zachariah sniffs, about to burst out into tears of happiness. Honestly, I'm about to burst out into tears (of relief) myself.

The Manifestation, confused by the sudden appearance of a mob, whips its head around at various speakers. The constant conversation seems to be driving the creature mad. Its pupils dilate and contract rapidly, sweat starting to form on its face as it attempts to process all this new information.

"Everyone...Everyone is here!" Ricard gasps, unable to believe his eyes.

"'Course we are, Hippie Boy! We can't have you dyin' on us!" Mana cries, cheekily reassuring the hunter in her own weird way.

"I was startin' to itch for a fight," Johanna growls, smashing one fist into an open hand. "What better to do than rough up then some punk monster that thinks it can wail on us?"

"Yes, it seems the Manifestation has been misbehaving itself," Priscilla chirps, happily rapping a rolling pin against her wrist. "It needs to be dealt a lesson in manners."

"Yeesh, I wouldn't wanna piss _you_ off..." Jaxon mutters to himself, shuffling a little bit away.

"Trust me, you _don't_." Lance grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. He then proceeds to address Zachariah. "I'm actually rather disappointed in you, human meat shield. I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

"He needs a proper weapon..." Cado notes to himself. Endi and Ellanora are clearly hidden behind the blacksmith, willing to stay out of sight.

"Ah, who cares about that?! My good luck charm kept them safe and sound! Thank goodness!" Nissa cheers, hopping up and down excitedly.

"Eh, maybe I should swipe that magic staff of yours, then. If it keeps mythological beasts from killin' me, it'd be worth it." Michael laughs cynically.

"Let's focus on the Manifestation, guys," Thomas suggests anxiously, backing up a bit from the scene. The chimera, at this point, has snapped out of bewilderment and has its attention trained on the circle of Elites surrounding it.

"Indeed. I say we rid ourselves of this being as soon as possible," Carina agrees, stepping up as leader of the Elites. Icarus straightens upon his master's shoulders, puffing his chest out in pride.

The chimera paws at the ground, imitating a bull ready to ram into bowling pins. A single tree is aflame, casting a ashy flow on the battlefield. Carina's eyes harden. "On my command, we collectively charge. _Ready? _G-"

_**"STOP EVERYTHIIIIING!"**_ Fukushi screeches, throwing open his wings to display his entire wingspan. "Away with you, Manifestation of Slime!"

With that, a shower of iridescent feathers rains down, bathing us in a pearly light and putting out the lone flaming tree. The feathers seem to have the opposite effect on the Manifestation, acting more as piercing arrows than angelic radiance. The chimera-no, the slime-collapses, writhing in pain on the forest floor until it finally vanishes into nothingness.

My eyes widen in shock. For such a little guy, he vanquished the fire and that beast like it was nothing...and with freaking feathers, no less! First, _bread_ saves the day, and now _feathers_?

"Aw, come _on_! I was gonna brawl with that thing!" Johanna groans, throwing her bulky arms into the air. "What the _fuck_ did you do _that_ for?!"

"For your information, Miss Zeal," Fukushi sputters, lowering himself from the night sky to root on a burnt tree branch, "I, as your humble Narrator, just '_effing_' rescued you Characters from your terribly cruel, early _demises_!"

The owl glares down from his perch, making the majority of Elites either hang their head in shame or glance away from it. We are like children being berated for unnecessarily picking a fight with another student. _It's strange, _I note, _that Fukushi scolds us like a parent would, and enforces rules on us for our own good. _The Narrator...perhaps it truly is genuinely concerned for our safety?

"What were you kids thinking?!" Fukushi demands, flailing his wings wildly. "Rushing into such a high difficulty Quest right off the bat?! And with minimal preparation?! No weapons, just fancy clothes and some food and light?! **Ludicrous!** _Blasphemy! _Poppycock!"

"B-But..." Ellanora stammers, only to get cut off by the livid, ranting Narrator.

"You could have died out here! **DIED**! What's worse is that you had me worried **SICK**!" Fukushi cries, its tawny face burning red with anger. "The Witch, the Familiar, the Curse, the Manifestation! None of them care what happens to you, so long as they can eliminate hope-the hope that each of you provides as a Character in the Story! You cannot ever allow them to snuff it out from you! Never, ever, ever!"

"That's what we were trying to do in the first place." Endi explains nervously. "We embarked in this Quest hoping to get out sooner."

"We thought that collaborating would allow us to slay the Manifestation," Carina adds, clarifying for the craftsman. "though I suppose if anyone is to receive the blame, it should be me. I was the ringmaster of this operation. I organized this in accordance to the general consensus of my classmates. For this, I am sorry."

The falconer bows her head in apology to the owl, accepting responsibility for her own mistake. Endi glances at Carina uncomfortably, but then he, too, dips down. A chain reaction goes off. One Elite sends another Elite into a guilty state, and soon enough, everyone is either chorusing "sorry" or bowing to the Narrator. Even I find myself-as well as Lance and a few other stragglers-coughing up apologies to Fukushi.

It seems we share a newfound trust and respect for the fluffy critter. He is caring and grandfatherly, like a welcoming hug or a mug of hot cocoa. The owl is no longer an "it" in our eyes. He has an bigger identity now, a little niche in our hearts, as sappy as it sounds.

Fukushi's eyes soften. "Heroes must have patience and wait for their time to come before they act. Rashness leads to ruin, not retribution." He sighs, shaking his head at us. "I forgive you, my children, but please...do not take any future Quests without my approval! The last thing I want to see is a _corpse_ washing up somewhere!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have posted such a hard Quest up then!" Mana scoffs quietly, rolling her eyes. "If you didn't want us to potentially take it, why put it up on the Quest Board in the first place?"

"That's right. Carina said most of the Quests were easy things, like fetching items. This was the only one out of place." Michael notes, his lips curving into a frown. "So what happened?"

Fukushi's face falls at the comment. "That's _my_ line! I was planning on asking _you_ kids how you came across that Quest! I don't remember putting up such a horribly mean mission for you to do! My policy is to post Quests corresponding to your current Level, which should all be set to 1..."

"Are you serious?!" Johanna gapes, balling her hands into meaty fists. "So someone fucking _screwed_ with us by putting up some fake Quest?!"

"And we took the bait," Ricard notes, glancing down sadly at his rifle. Wasted ammunition and the scent of gunpowder cling to the air.

"That doesn't make sense," I point out, my voice finally having recovered from the shock of the chimera battle. "No one knew what a Manifestation was before the Quest was announced, but the Quest perfectly explained what they were. How could someone have put a fake up?

"Or maybe," Lance suggests, his suspicious gaze darting from face to face, "someone _pretended_ to not know in order to lure us out to get _slaughtered_."

"Who...who would do such a thing?" Cado wonders, concern evident in his usually lax face.

"Someone in _cahoots _with the Familiar!" Fukushi screeches, coming to a sudden realization. "Th-There's a traitor amongst you children?! A _traitor_ who wants to see the other Characters despair! Or maybe...multiple traitors?!"

A traitor...a _killer_ in our midst...someone who would be _giddy_ to see the streets running red with blood more than anything else...My entire body goes winter cold.

"W-What is this garbage?!" Fukushi demands to no one in particular. "This isn't supposed to happen! We need to focus on the Familiar, not worry about several things at one time! It's too much for me to handle!"

"Mweeheeheehee..." a strange , semi-robotic voice laughs, amused by the owl's panic. All heads veer to Lance, who only looks just as confused as the rest of us. The mysterious voice takes this moment to bolt up in shrillness and cackle, "I think it's high time for a Plot Twist, Fukushi."

A shadow darts out from a nearby tree, knocking Fukushi off of its perch and tumbling down. Luckily, Zachariah manages to dart up and catch the owl before he sustains any noticeable damage. The shadow snickers, claiming the Narrator's treetop position for itself.

I rub my eyes to make sure I'm seeing things correctly. Granted, I have seen a chimera today, but the creature now sitting on the burnt tree resembles a small reptilian plush toy, complete with horns, stubby claws, and a tiny, pathetic pair of wings. It is split down the middle, the left side black and sinister, and the right side white and cuddly. The eyes are mismatched too-one is a plain black one, the other is a diamond shape (or is that a four-pronged sparkle shape?) in a blood red color.

A dragon...a weird cyberpunk, emo dragon thing...

"It's _you," _Fukushi gasps, blatantly unhappy to see the monochrome reptile.

"That's right...it's-a me...a fat Italian plumber..." the dragon responds nonchalantly, cracking a bad joke whilst wearing a straight face.

"You're NOT welcome here!" Fukushi cries, craning his neck to address the creature while making fuming eye contact. "Leave now or-ow, ow, ow!" The owl slumps back into Zachariah's arms with a whimper. He still has a migraine from having been collided into head-first.

"A-Art thou safe, small and feathered one?" Zachariah asks Fukushi, no longer referring to the owl as a demon. Unfortunately, the Narrator seems to be far too concerned for our own safety to properly respond.

"Forget about me! G-Get back, children!" Fukushi commands, sending us recoiling at the grave tone of his voice. It glares spitefully at the dragon. "Th-That creature will bring ruin to anyone that dares draw close or is foolish enough to make a contract with it!"

"You don't need to be so melodramatic, my good owl..." the dragon drawls in a mocking monotone. Its voice implies that it is entirely disinterested in the discussion at hand. "What can a poor thing like me do against an army of high school students? I'll get beaten into a bloody pulp. Oh, boo hoo. Boo hoo _hoo_."

_That didn't sound like very convincing fake crying..._

"Sh-Shut it!" Fukushi snaps, surprisingly taking a hostile turn. "Don't be fooled, children! He will deceive you, then throw you into madness and abandon you there!

"Before you is _Monoryuu_, the _Familiar_ of the Great Witch herself!"

* * *

The Great Witch's Familiar is a frightening entity that perpetuates the Curse. It wields the Magical remnants of the Witch that destroyed the land. And that very same Familiar, which manifested that chimera slime...the Familiar is this tiny _lizard_?

The Elites stare in unison, unsure of how such a small creature could be so...wicked, or sound like a prepubescent boy. Even Zachariah, who is usually the first to volunteer himself to combat, raises an eyebrow. No one attempts to question the reality of the situation. A talking owl and a talking dragon are having a debate in a charred tree-how much more surreal can this get?

"Me? Deceive them?" the dragon repeats slowly, tilting his head to one side. "I think you have it wrong, Fukushi..." He rises onto his stubby feet and twirls around, the winged reptile's body going entirely white with beady black eyes. At once, Monoryuu's voice becomes hyper energetic and squeaky. "Nah, naaaah! You have it soooo _totes_ wrong! It's, _like_, the Story that's deceiving the Characters!"

"It changed colors and its personality completely, like a mood ring...!" Endi notes, fascinated at the dragon.

Monoryuu chuckles at the craftsman's observation before spinning around again, this time morphing into pitch black hue with demonic scarlet eyes. "Uh, hellz _yeah_, I can change color! 'N I can give ya sum 'o mah _attitude_ too, punk, cuz I sure ain't no goddamn hunk 'o _junk_ jewelry!"

Endi lurches backwards, not expecting sass from the reptile. Cado and Thomas exchange worried looks and make way for Endi to back up.

"Wh-What...N-Now the dragon is talking l-like a th-thug..." Ellanora stammers, looking faint. Frieda eyes the poor girl, but remains on standby.

"It's cute! Er, but also kinda creepy when it's unstable like that!" Nissa remarks, quick to comment on the hugability of the weird talking animals we come across.

"Like I said," Fukushi sputters weakly from Zachariah's arms, "don't be fooled by his cuteness! Monoryuu is pure evil! He wishes death and despair upon us all!" It pauses before adding, "Besides, everyone knows I'm WAY more adorable than he is!"

"Wow, that got off topic really quick!" Jaxon laughs, enjoying the oddness of the conversation. I suppose it befits him, given that he's daydreaming or dozing off half the time, too. Mana rolls her eyes at the wayfarer's hypocrisy.

To this, Monoryuu switches back to its dull black-and-white persona. "Eh...no way. You're a dumb bird. No one likes dumb birds. They're dumb...and also dumbish. Did I mention they were _dumb_?" Carina twitches with not-so-cleverly concealed rage. Icarus looks like he wants to sink his talons into the Familiar.

"That's repetitive! The Narrator in me simply cannot tolerate it!" Fukushi squawks, glaring at his counterpart. The owl resembles a strangely plump baby being cradled in Zachariah's arms. "You...you shouldn't even be here! You're _forbidden_ to directly interfere with the Story!"

Back to its black dragon form. "Sez who? You, oh great-and-powerful Narrator? Those dumbass kiddos 'o yours? HAH! Don't you make me laugh! I can end all of you with a flick 'o mah wrist!"

"Don't you dare," Fukushi snarls, struggling to get back onto his feet, "the Story will not allow it! _I_ will not allow it!"

"Yea? You wanna fight, bro?! Bring it!" Monoryuu challenges, displaying two rows of rounded teeth. He resembles a stuffed animal more than ever now. I feel like I'm watching a few toddlers argue over which superhero is the best, even if our situation is much darker than that.

"Those two remind me of you and Estelle," Priscilla notes absentmindedly, earning a venomous pout from the ventriloquist.

"I don't see the resemblance," he insists, his hands looking a bit empty without Mustachio Pete. Who knows how Lance would have reacted if Pete had gotten crushed by the Manifestation?

"Make all the threats you like!" Fukushi taunts, launching into another rant, "I know you don't have your full abilities back. My powers surpass yours, and I shall use them to protect these precious children! Then they will break your horrid Curse, whether you want them to or not!"

The dragon flips to his light face. "Awwww, but wittle ol' Monoryuu did nothing wroooong. I mean, all I did was rewrite your Story a teeny, _tiny_ bit!"

"Something tells me that's _definitely_ wrong," Michael grumbles, throwing his arms behind his head. The bandit is right, for one fraction of a second later, out Narrator practically loses it.

_"Wh-Wh-Whaaaaat?!" _Fukushi yelps, leaping up and flapping frantically over to Monoryuu, despite his injury. He plants his forehead on the dragon's so that that his beak grinds against the other's snout. "_Impossible! _The only one who may change the Story is-"

"And that's where you're wrong," Monoryuu says, bland and clearly bored, "So long as you have the right connections..._anything_ is possible."

"P-Please wait!" Ricard calls nervously, finally deciding to interject between the two small creatures. "What do you mean when you say that you've changed the Story?"

"Mweeheeheehee! It's simple, bitch!" Dark Monoryuu sneers, eyes a deep, ominous crimson in the darkness of night. "Take a look at your E-Scrolls!"

"N-No! You couldn't have tampered with the E-Scrolls as well?!" Fukushi sputters, to which the dragon pulls a large, sadistically bright smile.

"Why don't 'cha see for yourself, Foofy?" Light Monoryuu asks, for I, along with many of my fellow Elites, have reluctantly taken out our magical scrolls. Honestly, I'm not expecting much aside from a few childish phrases and scribbles to be included in the text.

"Allow me to read that!" Fukushi requests, landing with a soft plop on my head. I don't bother protesting, for my eyes are glued to the horrific words on the parchment paper. Again, the words have been altered, but this time, the contents of the E-Scrolls are genuinely frightening.

**The (New and Improved!) Laws of Storytelling are as follows: **

**1\. All Characters must reside within the Village or its surrounding area, the Woods. It is recommended that Characters only venture into the Woods if necessary. Their safety is not guaranteed unless they remain on Village grounds, especially at night time, when Manifestations roam. Characters are, however, allowed to explore at their own discretion.**

**2\. Night time is from 10 pm to 7 am. Some areas and buildings will be inaccessible to Characters at night.**

**3\. The E-Scroll (short for Enchanted Scroll, for the curious children out there) must be kept on a Character's being at all times. It is an important part of your Village life and will frequently update with information.**

**4\. Sleeping anywhere other than the Character Guild will be viewed as deviating from the Story and will result in punishment.**

**5\. Destroying property and breaking into locked facilities is frowned upon, and will also result in punishment.**

**6\. Violence against the Narrator, Fukushi, or the Familiar, Monoryuu, is strictly prohibited.**

**7\. Characters may not leave the Story unless they kill another Character and avoid being found out.**

**8\. Participating in Quests will reward you with no Experience. However, completing Quests will reward you with other things, such as useful items. The only way to gain Experience is by successfully catching a killer. Characters may still complete Quests either individually or in groups. The Quests that the Familiar deems mandatory require participation from all living Characters. **

**9\. Characters may also choose to leave the Story if the Familiar is vanquished. But you can't possibly do that, mweeheeheehee!**

**10\. Additional Storytelling laws may be added as necessary.**

**Have a happily ever after!**

"Instead of bein' a fairy tale life of mutual questing...t's gonna be one of mutual _killing_..." Monoryuu chuckles darkly as the Elites slowly glance up from their scrolls. Our expressions are those of petrified fear. "Do you understand, you worthless Characters?"

In this world, it's _kill_ or _be killed_.

* * *

"_That person _is still alive. This...it cannot happen."

"I know, I know. We must be rid of them, quickly..."

"What will you do about it? You're the one who set that _thing_ free in the first place, and it has yet to do anything to help. Take some responsibility."

"I've got it. I don't need you telling me how to do this."

"Very well, if you insist. Do keep in mind that our superiors will _not_ be pleased if this unauthorized activity continues without yielding results."

"I'm well aware. The Story exists for one reason and one reason only...the same reason for any tale to be passed from generation to generation."

"To _preserve_ and _protect_."

"Of course."

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7=**

**Yeesh, this chapter was a headache to write. I did bits and pieces of this between packing to return to university and scrambling to do paperwork for my job, then proofread and did major editing afterwards.**

***insert sarcastic tone here* Oh nooo, there's a traitor in our midst? We're being forced into a killing game? There are cute talking animal mascots with quirky personalities? Gee, how original and completely unexpected! I _do_ wonder what will happen.**

**Sigh...time to go back to school. This is very likely my last post for this month. =A= Hopefully I'll continue updating, although not as frequently. Thanks for your continued reviews and support, and see you next chapter!**


	8. In a Dark Dream

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, a STORY occurred and came to a close.**_

_**...What? ELABORATE? Well, the DETAILS don't matter now, do they? All TALES serve the same purpose; to PRESERVE and PROTECT. Nothing else matters.**_

_**After a conclusion, HAPPINESS is not guaranteed. KINGDOMS may fall, RICHES may disintegrate, and CHARACTERS may perish, but HEROISM survives all HARDSHIPS...even should golden DREAMS and IDEALS fade away.**_

* * *

"WHAT BE THIS _MADNESS_?!"

The roar of the false chimera pales in comparison to that of Zachariah's. No one else-not even the supposedly all-knowing Fukushi-reacts quicker to Monoryuu's outrageous new rules than the Elite Knight. He immediately plows his way through a crowd of students (despite an owl's sputtering protests), eyes searing a hole in the Great Witch's familiar. To call the Courageous student a pot boiling over and steaming would be a huge understatement. Every inch of his being radiates outrage and the need to enact justice.

The first thought that comes to mind is, _he has a death wish._ I don't know whether the knight is brave or simply moronic. If I were him, I wouldn't underestimate my opponents-especially not after witnessing a Manifestation, only a mere fraction of the familiar's power.

"YOU! You...you vile harbinger of _evil_!" Zachariah bellows, nostrils flaring as he addresses Monoryuu, "How DARE you even SUGGEST such a horrid thing! Spilling the blood of the innocent is high treason, a crime, a sin-and even more so if the murdered were thy ally! 'Tis morally wrong on every possible level! No one would ever need to think TWICE before denying compliance with thy sick game!"

"Well _wowee, gosh darn_, and _golly gee_! You sure use a lotta big words!" Monoryuu giggles, displaying his milder light half. With a spin mid-air, he flips to his hostile dark side and spits out a taunt. "How _fuckin'_ precious; a guard dog that's all bark 'n no bite!"

Zachariah reddens with rage when the jab at his pride meets his usually thick skull. "I will show thee '_no bite_' if thou dost utter another insult...!" He instinctively reaches for a non-existent sword at his hip, but upon realizing that he is weaponless, clenches his fists and takes on a threatening stance instead.

"H-Hey!" Fukushi sputters nervously, glancing back and forth between the knight and the dragon, "N-Now is not the time to be giving sass, young man!" Zachariah, of course, snubs him, instead focusing all of his attention on a certain monochrome reptile. The disagreement is quickly escalating-and the audience of Elites stares on, bewildered.

"Me? Insult you...? There's no way...not when you're already pathetic enough as you are now; even more pathetic than I am." Monoryuu sighs, reverting back to his grey, melancholy self. He continues nonchalantly egging on the knight. "Slaying something as small and cute as I am...that's far too difficult for a greenhorn Hero."

"_G-GREENHORN_?!" Zachariah exclaims, recoiling in horror. He is apparently appalled by the phrase, for when he recovers from the initial shock, he looks even more livid than before. I must, however, commend him for refraining from immediately launching himself at Monoryuu. "Retract your previous statement at once, foul cur!"

"Well, it's the truth, ain't it?" The familiar sneers, waving his chubby claws at Zachariah. "What a poor little knight in shining armor, just a worthless, shitty Level 1! And such blind faith, such loving devotion to strangers! Cowardly, cruel, stupid, traitorous _asshole_ strangers, the whole lot of ya!"

At Monoryuu's remarks, the Elites show various degrees of reaction. Among the more proud students are displeased expressions, but they don't dare make a move. Mana, Michael, and Johanna look particularly pissed, but a few others-namely Thomas and Nissa, manage to keep them at bay with vague comfort. ("C-Come on, guys! Fighting won't solve anything", "Let Zach handle it", and "Let's not be too hasty here.") Lance lets out an irritated huff, but makes no move to do anything spontaneously.

The more timid students unconsciously huddle together, quaking in their boots. I catch Endi and Maria duck behind Cado for protection; the blacksmith stares off into the distance, trying to distract himself from the events playing out before him. Jaxon's mouth flies open for a second, as though to crack a bad joke, but he thinks better if it halfway and snaps his trap shut.

No one is as dumb as Zachariah to actively challenge a dragon-a dragon with the influence to change the Story's rules on a whim. It seems that not even Fukushi, our Narrator, can oppose the familiar.

"...Hold it." Zachariah mutters, his boisterous voice suddenly dropped to a harsh whisper. He sounds as though he as been punched in the gut and is struggling for air. Gone is his obvious anger, replaced instead with a quietly stewing rage.

The dragon blatantly ignores him and continues.

"I mean, look at all of ya! You're so weak and defenseless lookin'!" Light Monoryuu notes, not taking his own innocent appearance into account. "What good are your so-called talents against one of my neat Manifestations?" Spinning around, a gloomy Monoryuu mumbles, "Heroic scum like you guys...should disappear from the face of the Earth."

"Hold it...!" Zachariah demands, raising his voice to the bipolar reptilian. A few of the Elites around him back up a little. Smart move on their part-I certainly wouldn't want to be caught up in the brawl; I'd rather keep watching the antics unfold from a safe distance.

"Everyone here just needs to...dRoP dEaD. Poisoned, choked, stabbed, bludgeoned, electrocuted, stoned, suffocated, drowned, blown up, shot, burned in hell!" Monoryuu declares, his laughter slowly descending into giddy insanity. It occurs to me that this dragon truly has a hate agenda. "The filth that walks about the land like they own it all...what better way to dispose of it then to have the trash take itself out?! Ahahahah..._**AHAHAHAHAH**_!"

"You're crazy...y-you're super, super, SUPER crazy!" Fukushi shouts accusingly, to which Monoryuu only responds to with more sporadic laughter.

"Indeed, the dragon seems...not completely sane." Frieda comments off-handedly, a hand covering her mouth. Monoryuu is too caught up in his demented glee that he doesn't catch her quietly barbed words.

Beside the composer, Carina narrows her eyes suspiciously at the dragon. Icarus tenses up, keeping in synch with his master.

"The poor dear," Priscilla sighs, not the least bit disturbed by the turn of events. Sometimes I have to wonder what goes on in her head.

Monoryuu's deranged laughter carries on, a haunting drone ringing in my ears. I swallow the dry lump that has accumulated in my throat. And I thought _Zachariah_ was mentally unstable...but speaking of Zachariah-

"I said...**_HOLD IT!_**" He commands, his vocal volume at a new all-time high. The entire forest seems to reverberate, drinking in the gravity of our situation. At once, the woods go still and silent. Everyone stares; Zachariah definitely has our undivided attention now.

"Say whatever you wish about me...say what you will about my status, my abilities, my everything and anything," the knight says slowly, enunciating every syllable as though speaking to a child, "but do not ever question the integrity of my allies, my comrades-in-arms, my precious friends!" A short pause before total rage flashes across his usually friendly features. "_**DO YOU HEAR ME**_?!"

Monoryuu doesn't miss a single beat. The dragon casually glances over at Zachariah, semi-smiling and semi-smirking, "Oh, oh, _oh_? Guess I struck a chord with you! Whoops! My bad! Silly ol' Monoryuu should be more careful about what he says. I kinda forgot that Zachie-poo's sensitive 'bout this sort of stuff!"

In spite of myself, my ears perk up. Zachariah, of all people, _sensitive_?

"Not another word from you, hellspawn!" The knight orders sternly, his gaze sharp as a blade. His stance has visibly stiffened, his limbs tensed up and muscles locked in place.

"I mean, I don't blame ya!" Monoryuu, the hellspawn, chuckles to himself, relishing in Zachariah's despair. The dragon cares not for the consequences of his own actions. "I'd be super salty too if I had gone through what _you_ had! Might as well protect what little you have _now_ to make up for everythin' you lost back _then_, am I right?"

Zachariah snaps.

"THAT'S _IT_!" He snarls, relinquishing what little control he had over his emotions in the first place. Seizing the metal gauntlet on his left arm, he swiftly chucks it at the ground beneath Monoryuu. I immediately recognize the gesture; Zachariah _legitimately_ wants to brawl with the dragon.

"Fight me, hellspawn!" The courageous student barks, voice clear and unwavering. His eyes blaze with an insurmountable passion. Off to the side, Carina face palms, and Frieda gives her a half-hearted pat on the back. "As captain of the Grohlian Royal Guard, I challenge thee to a duel-a duel to the death!"

"You wanna go, brah?! Cuz I'll make an example out of you by tearin' ya to shreds! I eat chumps like you for BREAKFAST!" Dark Monoryuu hisses, eager for combat. His eyes glint with a sense of sadistic bloodlust. "BRING IT _ON_!

"I shall gladly do so!" Zachariah insists, taking a bold step toward his foe. "On my honor as a knight, I swear that I will defeat yo-"

"Out of the question! Cease this reckless behavior at once!" Fukushi screeches, smashing his entire plump, feathered body into the knight's head from behind. Zachariah stumbles forward and face plants into the ground. For some reason, I can't muster up a laugh.

"S-Small feathered one!" The knight protests, scrambling into his feet, "Remove thyself from the battlefield! Allow me smite this monstrosity!"

The smudges of dirt on his face and his one missing gauntlet detract from how grim his request is. _Look at him,_ I note sarcastically to myself, _all noble and brave._ What a _joke._

"Stand down, Mister Garmont! As your dutiful Narrator, it is my job to ensure the safety and wellbeing of all Characters-and that includes _you_!" Fukushi counters promptly, shutting Zachariah up. The owl then glares at Monoryuu, who pouts (clearly disappointed with the disruption). "Accursed familiar! I don't know what sort of witchcraft you pulled for it to end up like this...but I _will_ find a way to restore the rules of the Story!"

"Impossible...it has been permanently rewritten by a higher being." Monoryuu sighs like it is the most obvious thing in the entire world. "You cannot escape from the Great Witch's Curse...all shall succumb to it eventually. It is only a matter of how and when now..."

"These children are future Heroes!" Fukushi growls through his clenched beak, "They will not readily cave in to your savage rules!"

"Oh? Really?" Light Monoryuu inquires, a comedically large grin spreading across his entire face, "You know, just cuz you guys have fancy names and titles doesn't mean diddly SQUAT in the Story! Everyone has the opportunity to kill or be killed; everyone wants out of the forest and everyone has incentive to leave."

Twirling to display his straight face, the dragon grumbles, "Why not just stop denying the darkness inside...? It exists in everyone...so don't be afraid of it. Embrace your inner evil...act on it...get to a-murderin'..."

"Lies, lies, _LIES_!" Zachariah cries, asserting his opinion (as per usual). "The fine lords and ladies of Camelot boast hearts of pure gold!" (I hold back from snickering at the knight's blind faith.) Zachariah takes a deep breath before continuing his ardent rant. "To taint thy hands with blood is to discard thy humanity and shame!"

"Eh? Is that sooooo?" Monoryuu inquires in a bland singsong, teasing the question. Flipping to his dark half, the monochrome beast sneers, "I guess _you_ must've lost yours a long, long time ago, huh?"

Everything skids to a screeching halt.

* * *

It doesn't take long for the meaning of the dragon's words to sink into my mind-or the minds of the other Elites. One by one, we slowly crane our heads toward Zachariah. I think some of us are hoping for Fukushi to cut in and deny the accusations, but even the owl has gone solemn. For a few moments, nothing seems to move; everything is encapsulated in a single bubble of time.

To my surprise, Ricard bursts said bubble.

"Er...Zach?" The Kind hunter stutters, his eyes anxiously darting from his friend to Monoryuu and back, "W-What's the dragon talking about?"

"I-It can't be what I think it is...right? R-Right?" Maria inquires, avoiding eye contact with the knight. The Wise student, who normally rattles off various facts and figures in addition to her usual chatter, leaves out digits from her question. A mathematician without her numbers? True madness.

"Of course it's what you think it is," Dark Monoryuu snaps, his voice laced with venom, "Don't they properly teach you fucks world history anymore?! Remember the lesson on feudal Europe, dumbasses?"

I know; I know all_ too_ well, and I suspect that the other Elites do as well. A gallant figure in a silver suit and cloak upon a noble white steed, fresh off the pages of a storybook. Riding into an adventure, kissing a princess awake, slaying monsters...well, at least in literature. In real life, though...

My mouth begins to move on its own, words spilling forth."A knight," I begin, "is a mounted soldier in armor, bound by a code of chivalrous conduct and associated with a military rank. He serves his sovereign or feudal superior by means of merit and service...or cutting down their masters' enemies. So long as the lord commands it, a knight carries out the order."

_The order to **kill**..._

And that, in the end, makes the title of knight just a synonym for less savory phrases-choice word pairings like mass murderer and serial killer.

I tentatively raise my eyes to meet Zachariah's. Instead of their usual cheer and peppiness, they have gone dead and almost glazed over with an unknown emotion. Sorrow is the first feeling that comes to mind; that's all I need to see to know that I am correct.

"Well, lookee here," Monoryuu purrs softly, his gaze locking on to me, "looks like we've got ourselves a bright little girl~ Gold star for you!" The dragon then abruptly shrivels, turning a depressing grey hue again. "Do you guys get it now...? He's the Elite Knight, a masterful murderer...and probably your biggest threat."

Fukushi pales, any words or semblance of a counter argument lodged in his throat. A wave of silence passes through the Elites as we try to process the information presented to us. It doesn't take very long before someone gives their two cents on the matter.

"You can't be _serious_!" Lance pipes up, jabbing an accusatory finger at Zachariah. "Are you telling me that this stupid _meat shield_ was invited to Camelot for being an efficient _slaughterer_?! Gimme a break!"

"He can't even go five seconds without making a complete _fool_ of himself!" Mustachio Pete cackles loudly, emphasizing his owner's objection.

"Hey..." Cado interjects quietly, "Zach might not be the sharpest sword in the armory, but...but he has other strengths."

"Yeah, that's right!" Ricard chimes in, leaping to the knight's defense. "Zach is my friend-_our_ friend. He'd never intentionally hurt anyone!"

"Yo, Hippie Boy's got a point there." Mana sighs, folding her arms across her chest. "Charming's just one big teddy bear. The guy's annoying sometimes, but he can't harm a fly."

"I-I don't think Mister Garmont is capable of killing, either..." Maria squeaks, staring at her feet. "He has always been p-patient and kind to me."

I arch my eyebrows questioningly. Zachariah's idiocy must have started to effect the rationale of the other Elites. Yes, he certainly acts innocent enough, but there is no denying the sinister implications of his occupation. Anyone can still smile while covered in the blood of their enemies, after all.

"Th-That's right, children! Don't fall for the familiar's lies!" Fukushi declares, beaming proudly at Zachariah's supporters. The knight himself has not said anything for a while now, and it worries me (especially considering how much he runs his mouth on a regular basis).

"What? Don't tell me you ALL agree with the lame owl!" Light Monoryuu complains, frowning down on us. "You know what the knight does for a living! He murders! This is so NOT the type of reaction you should be having right now!"

"What sort of reaction were you expecting?" Jaxon inquires lazily, throwing his hands behind his back.

"MURDER!" Monoryuu spits, fuming mad. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO _MURDER_ ONE ANOTHER!"

"Like Ricard said, Zach's our friend." Endi points out politely. "Are you saying that we _shouldn't_ have faith in each other?"

"Nissa always believes in _everyone_!" The illusionist exclaims, posing with a flourish. She winks dramatically, flashing peace signs sideways near her eyes.

"Me, too!" Thomas pitches in, followed by a nod from Priscilla, the motherly figure of the group. "Who else is with us?" The courier glances expectedly at the remainder of the Elites, who have yet to give their opinion.

"I dunno about this," Michael shrugs, casting a suspicious look at the Courageous knight. "Zach there did give me a hard time when I took something of his. Suddenly got really wild..."

"Yes, indeed. I wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of the fray when Zach is involved." Frieda adds, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Crazy bastard almost dislocated my shoulder..." Johanna mumbles rather grudgingly. The boxer gnashes her teeth together, trying to keep calm-and surprisingly doing a relatively good job.

At the mention of his event, many of the Elites cringe in unison. I, not having been directly involved, vaguely recall being told of this occurrence from Nissa. Apparently, it had taken multiple students-about twelve of them-to keep Zachariah from attacking Michael in retaliation. Could the truth of the matter be that he's even scarier than Priscilla when he loses his temper?

"Yeah, see?!" Monoryuu cries, latching on to the bandit's terse comments. "Your guard dog has proven in the past to be violent! One little thing could make him snap!"

"Mister Garmont has indeed demonstrated physical prowess to us," Carina notes pointedly. "That was precisely why he was chosen to help us scout the forest...but I cannot deny that he may have a darker side to him. All humans do."

"Wh-What?!" Fukushi shrieks, totally appalled by the slightly negativity of a handful of students. "D-Don't be ridiculous! You children are all paragons of hope! Please d-don't point the finger at your fellow Characters! That's exactly what Monoryuu wants!"

"Aw, too bad, so sad, Foofy!" the monochrome dragon sneers, shoving Fukushi aside to push his own ideas. "You see? If the guard dog is capable of hurting you, he's capable of _killing_ you!"

A murmur of doubt ripples through the Elites. Students exchanged worried looks and harsh whispers, eyeing Zachariah as they do so. The knight wears an unreadable facial expression-odd, for someone who is usually an open book.

"N-NO!" Fukushi squeals unhappily, insistent on his point, "Monoryuu's tricking you! M-Mister Garmont really is a good boy! Everyone, don't listen to the familiar's horrid li-"

"'Tis no lie."

At once, all heads turn to face the speaker. Even _I'm_ caught off guard.

"I am well aware of what I have become," Zachariah announces, his voice shockingly cold and devoid of any emotion. The moonlight at his back casts eerie shadows on his face. "A knight must never question the integrity or intentions of his master. If he wills it, I will happily comply and carry out the order-no matter how mundane or gruesome.

The atmosphere sours, the temperature hitting a chilling low. Somewhere in the distance, the wind howls through the trees of the forest. He admitted it so _bluntly_.

"W-Who the hell did you serve, a madman?!" Lance demands, jaw gaping at the knight's confession. "You have_ no right_ to be preaching to us about what's wrong and what's right if you have a background like _that_!" Various other Elites chip in, voicing fright and concern, but Zachariah cuts them off with a single wave of his hand.

"It is already far too late for me to reconsider my path," he says slowly, "but I won't stand to have any of my allies sink to my level. Whether you now see me as friend or foe, I shall oppose this fairy tale of mutual killing up until my last breath! If I should become a pawn or sacrifice in the process of obtaining escape, then so be it-so long as my classmates are able to exit the forest unscathed, I will be satisfied."

_There is vague self loathing peppered within his selflessness,_ I realize. His grand displays of power and over-embellished way of speaking; they do an excellent job at concealing something deeper than all of that. I just can't quite put my finger on what it is.

My train of through is disrupted by Fukushi's loud, sudden weeping. "M-Mister Garmont...Oh, Mister Garmooooont! That was beautiful, just _beautiful!_ Your hopeful words have moved me!"

The owl is truly touched with Zachariah's impromptu speech-but Monoryuu is certainly not.

"Geez, come ON! You've gotta be SHITTING me!" The dark dragon growls, rolling his eyes at Zachariah. "Listen to yourself! You sound like a corny actor from one of them low rated freelancing films!

"Oh, whatever! Say what you want..." Monoryuu mumbles absentmindedly, "Sob stories won't win you any points with me...and whether or not it will with your fellow Characters is completely up to them. Just keep in mind that you only have one way out from this point on...

One twirl mid-air later, Light Monoryuu chirps, "Anyways~ I've spent waaaaay too much time chit-chattin' with you guys! I'm headin' off! Everyone can have the rest of the night to plot murder in the privacy of their guild room! _Mweeheeheehee!_ Tah-tah for now!"

**BOOSH!**

In a blink of light, the familiar, curled up in a ball of black and white, vanishes. Left behind in the forest is a crying owl, sixteen Elites, and heavy hearts. We came out here seeking a Manifestation and adventure. Instead, we came up with disturbing rules and revelations.

The Story cares not for our distress.

* * *

It must be nearly 10:00 pm when we make it back to the village guild; we may have returned even later had we been without Fukushi's guidance. The trudge back to the village had been a solemn one; there wasn't much to comment on. Rather than group together to make small talk, each Elite had kept to himself and marched on. Quietly sizing each other up. Labeling them.

Of course, the owl had done his best to reassure us that he would deal with the problem personally, but it hasn't done anything to relieve us. As soon as Fukushi takes off into the night sky, wishing us sweet dreams, we feel more vulnerable than ever. I am surrounded by characters from a circus, each one motivated to leave the prison called the Story.

Am I the odd one out? The only person who wants to stay behind, blissfully unaware? Why me? Why, why, _why?_

"Alright, everyone," Carina huffs, reassuming the role of group leader and addressing us with a pointed flourish, "from now on, when we turn in for the day, I would recommend not leaving your bedrooms until morning."

"Oh yeah?" Johanna snaps, immediately challenging the Loyal student. "Gimme one good reason why I should listen to you a second time! Cuz that first time worked out _so_ goddamn well, didn't it?"

"Yup, perfectly. Just like peanut butter and cyanide jam." Michael adds sarcastically, sniggering to himself.

"To minimize our casualties, of course!" Carina replies matter-of-factly. Her gaze hardens, becoming sharp and falcon-like in nature. "Who knows what can happen under the cover of darkness? We are well aware that danger lurks around every corner in this forsaken place. At this point, I would rather be safe than sorry-or I our case, I'd rather be doubtful than _dead_."

"What if I need to use the toilet?" Jaxon calls out, only to get a repulsed stare from Carina. "What? I'm bein' really serious here. There are no other bathrooms or places to take a dum-"

"Simply wait until morning to carry out your hygienic activities," the falconer insists stubbornly. Jaxon frowns, clearly not satisfied with her response, but someone else interrupts.

"Well, I guess that does make sense." Ricard says, affirming Carina's practical measures. "Not that I would ever doubt you guys, but we would be safer from the familiar and its magic, at the very least. The least we can do is...er...control our bladders."

"E-Eep! Th-The dragon scares me..." Maria squeaks, ducking behind a few taller Elites, Thomas and Cado. (Endi smothly attempts to comfort the statistician by patting her on the back and muttering, "There, there.")

"Man, I still can't believe this is happening to us..." Jaxon grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's like one big dream or somethin'."

"Dream?" Mana snorts, raising an eyebrow at the red head. "More like _nightmare_, Space Case. Some of ya'd better brush up on your self defense skills if you wanna last past the first few days of this killing game."

"_Hmph!_ Some of us don't need to brush up on_ anything_! Not when they've spent their whole life doing someone else's dirty work and getting blood on their hands." Lance points out cruelly. Mustachio Pete's blank stare seems even more dead and lifeless than ever before.

Instinctively, all eyes drift to Zachariah.

"I completely understand thy sentiments." He sighs, turning away from the Elites. The knight rests a hand over his heart, mumbling something under his breath; something along the lines of a prayer.

"Hm...Perhaps in the morning, we can try to formulate an alternative escape route." Frieda suggests softly. "You know, before someone betrays us and we have a corpse on our hands." She earns a glare from me. I'm getting fed up with all this cryptic talk of magic and curses, of heroes and witches, of traitors and murderers.

"The dragon said the only way out is to kill each other and get away with it; the owl said the only way out is to befriend one another and complete Quests, then slay the familiar," I recite, "but the rules of this Story are far too convoluted and contrived for anyone to comprehend. It would just be easier if we just decided to stay here!"

A whole lot of good banding together for a common cause did us. Again, we have returned to suspiciously watching one another and adding tags. Friend, foe, fool.

"Don't be ridiculous, sugar!" Priscilla cries, slapping me hard on the back. All the wind in the lungs goes rushing out, and I gasp to regain it. "We can do it if we try!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Nissa agrees, flashing a huge grin and another wink. "I can cast another good luck charm to help us if we need it!" She insists, waving her star-studded baton in the air.

I shoot the Priscilla and Nissa an incredulous look. _It's not an issue of whether it is **possible** or not,_ I want to tell them, _I just don't want to go back._ But I don't want to risk upsetting the baker-or riling up the other Elites, so I quickly change the subject. My patience is at its limit.

"Whatever. This isn't worth my time to deal with," I declare with a huff, tossing my head. "I'm going to sleep!" Without giving anyone the chance to argue the point, I spin around and begin to hastily make my way to my chambers.

I hear hesitant steps trailing behind me, followed by Carina's wary call of, "Leave her be." There is no need for me to turn around to see who my pursuer is; I already know from my prior experience, tromping about in the woods in hopes of escape. Ironically enough, now Zachariah and I-and everyone else for that matter-are trapped here together.

I don't catch any more of the strained conversation-the bedroom door is already slammed shut and locked. I'm safe within my new confines. All alone.

I let out a deep sigh and collapse into my makeshift straw mattress. The bedding material pricks at my skin, but it's far better than sleeping on the cold floor. Bringing my pallid legs to my chest in an awkward hug, I rest my chin on my knees, staring at my closed bedroom door-not that there's much else to look at.

The walls muffle the voices of the Elites, who squabble amongst themselves for a few moments longer before dispersing. There comes the scuffling of shoes against the floor as the other students file away into their private abodes. Outside, the moon and stars glisten with a melancholy hue.

Far away from home, isolated, and alone...

In a village within a mysterious forest...

Full of strange people...

I expel a huge breath, flopping over onto my stomach. There's no point in staying up any longer and worrying-and certainly not over the lives of near complete strangers. I cannot trust them, and that is _final._

"Good night..." I groan to no one in particular, burying my face in straw. Breathing in the scent of the earth at twilight, I drift off into dreamland.

* * *

_I stand before a fork in the road with two identical-looking paths. Because of the thick, chilling fog that is present, I cannot see past a few feet of either path. It hurts to gulp in air; it feels as though ice crystals are clogging my windpipe with every breath that I take._

_What is this place, limbo? The space between heaven and hell? Where lost souls go for judgement?_

_"...What is it that you seek?"_

_I jump, startled by the unfamiliar voice that speaks to me. Whipping around, I find myself facing thin air. It takes me but a few moments to realize that, like before, it is only the whisper of the wind._

_"What is it that you seek?" The question is repeated, as though the world thought it imperative that a response be given. "The warm touch of light? Or the sweet embrace of darkness? With whom you choose to side with; with the others, or with yourself?" The wind continues, pressuring me for a response. "Once you take a path, you cannot go back on your word; and you must choose-but deciding not to decide is also a decision."_

_"I don't know what you're talking about." I respond cautiously, feeling odd about addressing only the air._

_"Choose," the wind howls at my back, pushing me closer and closer to the fork in the road. "Choose, Hero. The Story won't progress if the central figures-the Characters-don't."_

_"But what if I don't want to?" I challenge, "what if I want to stay as I am, forever and ever?"_

_"You mustn't. Man naturally changes with time; it is inevitable, no matter how much one struggles."_

_"Struggle? You must be** joking**!" I scoff, folding my arms across my chest. "It's because of change that problems happen. If everything stayed the same, then conflict wouldn't exist!"_

_"And if conflict did not exist, mankind would never evolve as a species," the wind counters calmly._

_"But then mankind would never have faults!" I declare rashly, holding my ground against the voice._

_"Choose," the wind insists firmly, refusing to argue with me any further._

_"I choose to not choose," I retort stubbornly. "If light and darkness coexist, then walking on the edge of the two is also an option for me."_

_"...So be it. If that is your answer..."_

_The wind dies down into silence, leaving me in shock. Before I can ask if anyone is still there, the ground beneath me gives way at an odd angle, thrusting one leg up into the air and making me slip down onto my other leg. The two paths before me begin to crumble away into particles of dust, and the road behind me shatters like brittle glass. Above me, the sky becomes a bright magenta, orange, and red, the colors of the sunset._

_Ghoulish shrieks erupt forth from the disheveled ground, throwing rocks and sand into the air. I stumble back in fright and land on my bum. Scrambling away on my hands and feet, I find myself on a single floating island of land._

_**"SaVE hIm! sAvEEE tHeMMMMMMMM! SAve YouRseLFFFF!"** A chorus of disembodied voices chant, cultish and haunting._

_"E-EEEEEK!" I sputter, bottling onto my feet. Everything has plummeted into a surreal, hellish state. The ground at my feet begins to shrivel away the moment I'm up. I pale, expecting the worst._

_Despite the world disintegrating around me, I suddenly detect a fleshy, physical presence at my side. Afraid that turning would shift my weight and cause me to fall to my doom sooner than usual, I stay perfectly still, muscles locking up, and try to maintain balance. The unknown presence places its chin on my head and says-above the shrieks and cries of terror-a single phrase._

_"Farewell."_

_In one swift, elegant movement, the figure puts its hands on my back and pushes me. Hard. I lunge forward, plunging down. The wind whistles in my ears, shrill and violent. Then the figure throws itself into the abyss below to join me. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out._

_We hurtle together to our demise._

_I close my eyes and accept my fate._

_This is how it ends._

_A flame extinguished as peacefully as possible._

* * *

"_G-Gah_!" I snap wide awake, limbs flailing wildly, in my straw bedding. Every inch of my body is drenched in sweat-either I was tossing and turning a lot in my sleep, or I was having nightmares. I don't quite recall what I was dreaming about, though. I do, however, seem to remember the sensation of..._falling._

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of my guild room; it must be the middle of the night. The pounding of rain and clapping of thunder outside my window informs me of a passing freak storm. I can hardly see anything beyond a few feet from my windowsill-it is as if a dark veil has been thrown over all once-familiar shapes.

I'm not sure what sort of impetus has caused me to awaken in the dead of night. I would like to blame the loud crackling thunder, but I get the sense that it is something more than that; more like a horrible sense of dread. An uncomfortable sinking feeling, present in the darkest recesses of my body, claws away at my sanity.

_What's wrong with me?_ I wonder, staring down in the darkness at my clammy, shaking hands. _C-Calm down...everything is_ fine, I reassure myself, but to no avail._ No one's going to hurt you, no one's going to kill you. Stay as you are now; you're safe, you're safe, you're safe..._

"E-Eep!" I cry, leaping up at another crack from outside, temporarily lighting up the entire village. "Y-Yeesh, it's really stormy out there..." I mumble to myself, staring out a rain splattered pane of glass.

My reflection glances back at me, sleepy and solemn. I look absolutely miserable, even though I should be the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. The stress of being outside my house is starting to get at me, and with the introduction of this killing game, I'm more paranoid than ever.

I can't go back to sleep no matter how hard I try, so I try to spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and counting sheep. If I dwell on the day's events or the mysteries of Halkyonia, then I will surely go mad. _One sheep, two sheep, three sheep._

I quickly tire of it and try to focus on other things. Sadly, only one subject comes to my mind; a subject that I had previously shown no interest in. No-rather, a _person_ I had previously shown no interest in keeps popping up, despite all my efforts to repress him. Some sick, primordial part of me is curious about him and his guilt.

...Although it irks me to admit it, I wonder if Zachariah is faring any better than I am.

And with that thought, I resume to counting sheep. Fleece the color of snow and the texture of soft cotton dance in my head, prancing over imaginary fences. Baaing casually in lush, green meadows.

I still can't sleep.

_The dream is over,_ I realize,_ and the true nightmare is just beginning._

* * *

"What a pity. _That person_ was not eliminated, despite all of your efforts. Must be quite frustrating, yes?"

"Indeed."

"Hm. What do you propose to do at this point? I suppose our only option is directly interfering with the Story itself, but...it would be very risky."

"I'll do it."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"I'll take care of it."

"And _how_ exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Don't worry about it-all you need to know is that it shall be done."

"So long as you don't step outside your bounds as a Reader..."

"No."

"_What_ was that?"

"I will do whatever it takes to be rid of the menace; not just the Characters, but the hope of the entire world rides on it."

"Oh? How dedicated of you. Well, whatever. Do what you want; I'm not here to judge anything but the Story."

"Don't you care about the outcome at _all_?"

"Listen here, _toots_. If it's not a direct order from the Author, I'm not interested. We're just last resorts, remember?"

"I know-and that is precisely why I must do this with my own two hands."

"I see. Well, it's none of my business what you decide to do. I'll start your funeral preparations while you're gone on your suicide mission."

"Shut _up_."

"If you say so..."

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Er...to make a long story short, college was hectic and got in the way of writing. Now that I'm on summer break, I will write a whole lot more! Sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual; I'm still getting back into the swing of things.**

**I really feel like this chapter will cement readers' feelings on Estelle and Zachariah. You get a good sense of their personalities and what they stand for, as well as some personal dilemmas from their pasts that they may be struggling to overcome. The inner conflict is more apparent with Estelle, our narrator. If anyone is interested in a chapter or two from Zach's point of view, please let me know. All will be revealed in due time...**

**The results from the previous poll were quite surprising-Fukushi was easily the most popular character! Wow, I guess chapter 7 really did wonders for our little owl mascot, huh? There is now a new poll up. I have several ideas for the serial killer to be mentioned in the second trial, and would like the readers' input on which one sounds the coolest.**

**As an apology for updating so late, I'm going to respond to every review in the ending sections of each chapter from now on. Here we go!**

**ApexUtopia: I'm happy that the mascot characters were so well received. It's hard to make them stand out when the official ones are already larger than life! Hopefully I can also write some good cases too! The fairy tale life of mutual killing starts now.**

**PoisonBanana: Yay, students murdering each other...just another normal day at Camelot Academy, nothing to worry about.**

**Spontaneous Extempist: A dragon does fit the mystical setting of this killing game, doesn't it? Frieda certainly can be over-analytical, and she's great at pushing people's buttons. That might annoy others, and it might encourage them to keep going, just to prove her wrong or to spite her. It's a double edged sword, that personality of hers. Thanks; I'm super excited to write more!**

**misthallery: Wow, thanks for your detailed review! I'm glad Fukushi's Quest interruption and Monoryuu's introduction came off as natural. I wanted to do a different take on the protagonist; one that's more reluctant and suspicious of others rather than overly friendly and going with the flow. Estelle does pretty well with her own weird brand of cynicism and sarcastic humor. Hehe, you'll see who the main trio is pretty soon. The first investigation will be right around the corner.**

**Looking back on it, I had a lot of intentional (and unintentional) references in OMMM...FNAF, Legend of Zelda, Mario, Undertale, and various fairy tales (of course). If you're bored and waiting for the next update, see if you can find them all!**

**As always, thanks to everyone for your continued support! See you (hopefully!) next chapter!**


	9. How the Other Half is

**Hey, so before you read, you should probably go and vote for which serial killer idea you like best if you haven't already! There is already one with the majority of the votes, but I want to get as many opinions as possible. Thanks, and enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, a CHILD left home and embarked on a JOURNEY, seeking a HAPPY ENDING for himself.**_

_**He traveled to every corner of the world and saw many a great sight. However...he still felt as though he were missing a vital PIECE of himself. The CHILD soon realized that, for all the amazing things he had experienced, he still did not know what he sought in his own HAPPY ENDING. And so, he continues to wander to this day, seeking an END with no MEANING.**_

_**In the end, he had merely EXISTED.**_

_**He had never truly LIVED.**_

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, I slip away from the guild, still half dazed from lack of sleep. No longer is it a place where I can find safety and solace; the guild is teeming with annoyances that could betray me at any given moment. If I do stick around, I will either get stabbed in the back or subjected to another prolonged escape lecture. Both are fates I should like to avoid, if at all possible.

As soon as I step outside, I am greeted by the dawn. Prongs of light slice through the sky, splashes of orange and yellow against a cauliflower blue, as the sun rises from its slumber. If I have to be perfectly honest, it's breathtaking.

If only everything were as simple as this.

I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling a bit more at peace.

I know it won't last for long, though. Peace is but a fragile illusion. The slightest thing can upset its balance. And in this village...well, who knows how unstable everything is?

Knowing that my classmates could kill me at any given moment really limits my options. What I can do, where I can do it, when I can do it...even everyday tasks like bathing and eating can be put under high scrutiny. Food can be poisoned, and bathing leaves one vulnerable to attacks. I shiver at the thought.

_You're fine as you are,_ I lie to myself, hoping to settle down my jitters. My sight spins a little, still light-headed from not getting proper rest. I squeeze my eyes shut to steady myself and continue repeating the mantra. It doesn't become any more effective.

Without vision to help me piece together a sense of the world around me, all I feel is the gentle wind on my face, and all I hear is the rustle of trees and leaves, swaying against each other. The familiar scents of earth and chlorophyll embrace me. Sunlight bathes me from head to toe, acting as a shield from the chilly air. It's soft and comforting.

Perhaps I can enjoy my solitude for a little while longer..._E-Eh?_

My eyes snap open. A slight pressure is being applied to my head, almost as though a small, plump animal had decided to use my hair as a roosting area or nest...no, not just any small, plump animal-an owl; an owl with a bow tie and monocle.

"Good morning, Miss Malgosia!" Fukushi chirps cheerily, leaning down to peer into my eyes. His feathers brush against my cheeks in a friendly gesture. "How are we today?"

"Uh..." My voice trails off, not quite sure how to react. I would typically freak out, but he seems too docile and sweet to shoo away. "Fine, I suppose."

"Hm...so you say," Fukushi muses, landing with a soft swoosh before me, "you look as though you haven't gotten a wink of sleep, young lady."

Darn; he hit the bull's eye. Am I just _that_ easy to read? Or perhaps he's just a master at reading others in general? Whatever it is, I don't quite like it-I'd prefer to keep my thoughts and emotions to myself.

Warily eyeing my so-called Narrator, I say stubbornly, "W-Well, who needs sleep anyway?"

Fukushi cocks his head to one side, bringing a wing to his beak in a contemplative pose. It looks like the owl isn't willing to buy my crap, although he most certainly won't phrase it in a mean-spirited way. Instead of lecturing me on my sleeping patterns, however, Fukushi changes the topic of the conversation entirely.

"Goodness gracious; you're quite a Character, aren't you?" The owl shakes his head at me. "I can't seem to figure you out, Miss Malgosia."

"Excuse me?" I demand, narrowing my eyes at Fukushi. His remark sounded like a haphazardly thrown together insult-or maybe I'm just on edge from Monoryuu's Story alternations.

"Oh, my deepest apologies!" Fukushi sputters, realizing that his words could have been taken the wrong way. "What I mean to say, my dear girl, is that it is rather difficult for me to predict what your next move will be. For example, when that horrid Monoryuu announced to your fellow Characters that they should start doubting Mister Garmont...why, everyone started squabbling about and taking sides; but you did not. Before all of this mess...you weren't the least bit excited to meet your classmates! And even now, you deviate from the norm-you wish to remain here, while the others desire to leave."

"Is it wrong to be _different_?" I sigh, folding my arms across my chest and raising an eyebrow.

Fukushi responds with a chuckle. "No, I suppose not. After all, interesting Characters are what keep the Story alive and well."

This throws me for a loop. I furrow my brow in confusion. How odd-my entire life, people have been telling me to "do this" or "do that", saying that my behavior is irregular or strange. And then you have this talking owl, who is telling me to celebrate myself rather than be ashamed.

"Wait, really?" I inquire hesitantly, half expecting Fukushi to suddenly go back on his word.

"Certainly!" The owl replies promptly, confirming his earlier statement. "Hoo am I, as the Narrator, to question the actions of a Story's Characters? My role is to tell the Story as it plays out, and nothing more. On the other hand, you may act out the Story as you please."

"I suppose," I mumble off-handedly, glancing back at the sunrise. _He's_ _still using those cryptic phrases,_ I note silently. Story, Characters, Narrator...there must be some deeper_ meaning_ to them. "This hurts my head; all this stuff about Curses and escape."

"Oh dear...I wish there was some way I could help," Fukushi murmurs sadly, "I don't have quite enough power to break the Great Witch's Curse and set you free myself. I'm afraid I must rely on _you_ and your own powers to do that."

"Heh...my _own_ powers, right." I scoff, running both of my hands through my flaxen twin braids. _I'm weak. I don't have anything strength to offer,_ I think to myself, heaving a deep sigh

"Say, is something troubling you?" Fukushi asks softly, sensing my distress. I can't seem to properly conceal anything from this feather ball, can I? Pursing my lips, I realize that my attempts to hide away are futile. I might as well just tell the truth with him.

"I don't know," I admit, bringing a hand to shield my eyes front the sun, slowly gathering strength as it rises higher and higher. It is a light at the end of the tunnel; a light that can blind you if you're not careful. "I never asked to be a part of this. It's bothersome to deal with...with all these people, and all these things at once."

"I see, I see. It must be quite a burden." Fukushi pauses, mulling over the idea to himself. I don't expect an owl, of all things, to be able to understand me, but to my surprise, he pipes up, "Would you hate me terribly if I were to offer you a piece of advice?"

"Depends," I counter cooly, "on what kind it is. But at this point, I guess I really don't care. Anything to make me feel more sane..."

"Alright then, make some _friends,_" Fukushi states bluntly, staring at me dead in the eyes.

My jaw drops; my left eye begins twitching in disbelief. Of all the things Fukushi could have said...why, why, _why_ did he have to bring _that_ up?!

"W-What is that meant to help me accomplish?!" I sputter incomprehensibly, but I am quickly shushed by the Narrator.

"Just hear me out on this, Miss Malgosia!" Fukushi pleads. Once I quiet down, the owl continues his explanation, "It appears to me that you are very anxious about this whole situation-yet you forget, you are only one of many Characters. The others are here to support you, and one another. I know you don't exactly have a good first impression of them, but..."

"Because they're...they're _weird_!" I retort firmly, but the owl is quick to talk back.

"And _you_ don't have any oddities?" Fukushi demands, sending me recoiling in shock. He lowers his tone, and continues, "There is a reason for everything, Miss Malgosia. I suspect that you have a perfectly good Story of your own to explain your behavior-and so do the other Characters. They may be odd or quirky, rude or downright detestable, but they are still people-people with Stories of their own to tell. But you'll never know why they act the way they do if you don't at least try to look past the superficial!

"It's like missing out on a good book just because the title wasn't interesting, or the cover page had a dull illustration, or the first chapter was so-so. Anyone can wear a facade and pass off as something else, but not just anyone can expose them-and that is why you must be the one to approach first."

"W-What makes you think _I_ can?" I stammer, unable to throw together a more eloquent comeback.

"Well, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you enjoy a good Story," Fukushi explains slowly, meticulously weaving his argument, "just apply that mindset of yours to your fellow Characters. Give them a second chance-you may find that you like what you discover. The bonds you forge will surely be stronger than any Curse imaginable!"

"But the new rules..." I shudder to even think about them. _Kill or be killed._

"Forget them!" Fukushi orders lightheartedly, "As your Narrator, it goes without saying that I am a master of finding loopholes! If I cannot rewrite what has been changed, then I shall find a way around what already exists. You children may go about your day as normal; please, leave that nasty familiar to me!"

"Rather confident, aren't you?" I comment, impressed with the owl's dedication. "Your opponent is a magical entity, and yet you still refuse to give up."

"It's a little something called hope, my child." Fukushi grins-and I'm sure he would display his pearly whites if he had any. "I believe in the future you will create as Heroes-a future you can work towards together."

"Together..." I repeat the word, testing it in my tongue. It feels very foreign, like an unfamiliar taffy sticking to the roof of my mouth and various other crevices. Something inside of me savors the taste, satisfied with the bittersweet nature of the word. To-ge-theeer.

Tmp. Tmp. Tmp.

"Hm?" Fukushi peers around me at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Ah, salutations, Mister Garmont!"

I nearly choke on _together._

* * *

Tossing a look over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Fukushi eagerly flapping over to rest on Zachariah's head. Without his suit of armor, the knight just looks like a normal pretty boy, touched by the light of dawn. He wears a strained, yet gentle expression and chuckles quietly as he eases Fukushi off of his hair. It's is quite different than how he usually is, with his boisterous laughter and grandiose speeches; it's a _vulnerable_ part of him, I realize.

And in that moment, our eyes meet; blue and hazel.

_Shit._

I stand there for a few moments, frozen in place and unsure of what to do or say. It is not until Fukushi jabs his beak into my side that I let out a high pitched yelp. A conversation is initiated.

"U-U-Uh!" I scramble around frantically to assemble decent sentences. The last thing I want Zachariah to know is that I was staring at him awkwardly. "G-G-Good m-m-morning!"

"Good morrow, milady." Zachariah replies, giving the tiniest of smiles. He quickly looks away, avoiding eye contact. Shame and guilt radiate from every pore on his body now that he has been exposed as a murderer-and some sick, twisted part of me is concerned for him.

"Are you okay?" I spit up-and I immediately regret it. Zachariah's head jerks back to face me, brows furrowed in a strange expression; a cross between confusion and jubilance. I struggle to cover up my nervousness with, "I-It's not like I'm _worried_ about you or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! I-It's just odd to see you not so...loud and upbeat."

_Good job, Estelle. You already fudged keeping your cool_. I glance worriedly at Fukushi for social support, but the owl shrugs and gestures for me to continue. _Well, thanks a lot for nothing._

"My sincerest apologies. The accursed reptilian...he dredged up some memories that I would rather not dwell on." Zachariah dips into a bow, head hung low. "I shall resume with the merriment and joy if it so pleases you-"

"N-NO! PLEASE, DON'T!" I interject, perhaps a bit too loudly. Zachariah leaps back, startled at my harsh tone. "Er, what I mean is...I-I don't want you to pretend to be happy just for my sake. So if you're sad or whatever, then act like it! J-Just cuz you're a knight doesn't mean you need to hide your weaknesses and behave like a dumb _oaf_ all the time! In fact, trying to be the big hero only makes you feel annoying and fake!"

Okay, so _maybe_ I could have phrased that a little better...but from the way Zachariah is beaming, I doubt he took any of it as an insult. He flings his arms out, as though to squeeze me tightly in an embrace, but thinks better of it and allows his arms to fall to his sides. _Phew, crisis averted._

"I appreciate thy goodwill and kindness." The knight grins, this time bright and genuine. "Truly, I do."

My heart softens a bit at his expression. Maybe it's the way the morning light shines on him, or maybe it's the the chilled breeze has tinged his cheeks pink, but...in this moment, Zachariah is not a knight, nor an Elite. He is just...himself. A normal person effortlessly enjoying life.

"I'm not Kind; I'm Wise." I mutter, correcting him.

"The two are not mutually exclusive, milady," Zachariah replies cheerily. Now it's _my_ turn to be bewildered. Did a semi-smart remark just come out of _his_ mouth?

"That's a rather big phrase for you to use."

"Is it?" Zachariah laughs good naturedly, taking no offense as usual. "Milord generously provided me with a fine education while I served as an apprentice under him." The same master who ordered him to cut down his enemies...? Are we thinking of the _same_ person?

"Was it really that important to your lord that you had a large vocabulary?"

"Milord expects every member of his court to be well versed in a wide variety of fields. He insisted on stitching lessons, tea brewing sessions, and tutoring in the musical and visual arts-though I was never quite gifted in those realms."

My eyes practically bulge of of their sockets. Sure, he might not be good at everything, but to have been exposed to all those activities...his master must have wanted him to be a jack-of-all-trades sort of squire. Zachariah is strangely not, by any means, sheltered or uncultured.

"Great, now I can't tell _what_ to think of you!" I cry in exasperation, throwing both of my hands up in the air. I guess he's got not just brawns now, but brains as well? He certainly doesn't appear to _apply_ that high class education of his on a regular basis!

To my surprise, this earns a chuckle out of Zachariah. "You remind me of home." He notes, his features taking on a melancholy hue. The knight clasps both of his hands together over his chest. "Perhaps that is why I find myself so fond of you, milady."

"You don't say..." I mutter, resisting the urge to facepalm. Zachariah's denseness-and his hidden bits of cleverness-never cease to amaze me. Based on how he has acted toward me in the past, I'd say he loves his homeland about as much as Monoryuu and Fukushi loathe each other. "That's...great."

This makes Zachariah's smile broaden even more. He mumbles something under his breath. I only catch, "You really are just like her..."

"What was that?" I ask, but I am denied a proper answer.

"Nothing, nothing." Zachariah insists, brushing off my question like it is a mere fly. "I was merely thinking of a companion of mine from back home." Again, he clutches a hand over his heart, a flicker of..._pain?_...flashing across his face for split second.

"Right." I say tersely, eyeing the knight in a somewhat more positive light. I suppose he isn't so bad when he's not putting up a tough, heroic front. As Zachariah is now, he reminds me of a little puppy, barking in circles and chasing his own tail. "You must have a lot of friends wherever you go, huh?"

"Not particularly-although I am flattered that you think I do-and certainly not after the incident with the reptilian beast..." Zachariah mutters, glancing away, eyes downcast. "I completely understand, though. It is dangerous to linger around one such as myself."

"_I'll_ be the judge of that." I declare, placing my hands on my hips and pouting. Zachariah's lips tug up into a sorrowful smile.

"Yes, as I thought. You really do remind me of _her._.."

"Her, who?"

"As I've said before, an old friend. She bequeathed onto me my most prized possession," Zachariah hesitates and avoids my gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Please, let us speak of this no more. We...we should not even be conversing in the first place."

"And why is that?"

"I am a murderer. I would not like for you to get involved in my affairs...lest you wish to end up like her, and many others. That is all." The knight says solemnly, his voice uncharacteristically grim. An eerie feeling spikes down my spine. What exactly happened to this friend of his? And why such a grave tone?

The knight, refusing to elaborate further, swerves and hastily begins marching away. Shoulders hunched, posture perfectly robotic.

"H-Hey, wait!" I call out to him instinctively, but realize that I don't really have any real reason to keep him here. I blurt out a random question. "What is Grohl like?! Why do I remind you of home?! Who is..." But he is already too far away for my words to reach him.

The mysterious knight who can be both intelligent and idiotic, rash and yet rational at the same time...It's frustrating to think that I can't piece together his entire Story with what I currently have-or anyone's Story, for that matter. The only tale I know is my own.

"You see, Miss Malgosia?" Fukushi inquires, finally piping up beside me. "There is more to every Character than meets the eye-you simply must put forth more effort to uncover it. And doesn't your heart feel more at ease now?"

"I have more questions than ever before," I argue back, "but..." My voice trails off, unable to say the last bit outloud. There's this weird thumping in my chest, like a rush of adrenaline or a slam of sugar. It's excitement; the thrill of piecing together Stories and making sense of them-the Stories of my classmates.

_Yes, Fukushi._

My heart _does_ feel more at ease.

But then there is Zachariah's, heavy with guilt. Some part of me pities him. The deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands, hang above, no doubt endlessly torturing him-and yet he is still able to put up a smile. He misses his home country, a place where he lost so much of what he once had, and yet he stands up to protect strangers. Indeed, the knight has a golden heart, riddled with fragments of the past.

And that's when I decide that I must finish what I've started-the knight's Story. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day. I will _complete_ his tale and live to _tell_ it.

Then, perhaps, he won't hurt as much.

_Right?_

"W-Wait up, Zachariah!"

So against my better judgement, I find myself scampering after someone I never thought I would. My scrawny legs don't have a chance in hell to keep up with him, but that doesn't keep me from trying. I actually think Zachariah must have purposefully slowed down, even if just to indulge me-or perhaps somewhere, deep, deep down, he seeks someone to hear him out, even when he says he doesn't.

Fukushi looks on, beaming.

* * *

"Art thou in need of my services?" Zachariah inquires, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow at me. I put a hand up, a silent gesture as I catch my breath, taking in huge gulps of air. I must be way out of shape-either that, or the knight is way too in shape. He takes this opportunity to continue, "If not, I would advise thee to keep thy distance."

"Er, no. I don't exactly need help with anything, but..." A torrent of stammering flows forth from my mouth. It seemed like the obvious thing to do a few moments ago, but now I'm not so sure _what_ spurred me into chasing the knight down. I must look and sound like an idiot, just standing there with no clear motivation in mind.

I instinctively glance over my shoulder, expecting Fukushi to be there to offer me more advice, but the owl has departed. _Does he really think I can do this on my own!?_ I pale, returning to a waiting knight-and I blurt out the first thing that comes into mind.

"L-Let's go on a walk!"

"...What?"

"A-A walk!" I echo, all whilst silently badgering myself for my lack of planning. "Nothing like strolling around to clear up your anxiety and stress! Ahahahahah..."

"With all due respect, milady, now is not the time for such pleasantries." Zachariah responds flatly, not at all amused. He lumbers past me, dismissing my suggestion. "I am not in need of thy pity."

"I _don't_ pity you!" I exclaim in a rather haughty manner, pursing my lips tightly. "I-I'm just a little curious, is all! About the country you came from, and the customs and folklore, and your friends and family, and-"

"Trust me, you don't want to hear anything about it." Zachariah cuts in, not budging one bit. "You'd best be off to your guild room. It is safer there."

"You can't tell me what to do. This isn't the Middle Ages!" I declare, grappling onto one of the knight's arms with a pathetically tiny hand and tugging. "It's clear that something is weighing you down. You'd benefit from keeping your mind off of it!"

"I'd rather not," Zachariah sighs, cleanly ripping his arm from my grasp, "if I am to keep my allies safe, I must continue my morning patrol with the utmost of caution."

_Grrrr!_ I'm frustrated with the entirety of this lout! His dedication to others is sickeningly sweet! And the basis for it is still vague and wholly unknown. Is there nothing I can do to pry open this stupefying enigma?

"Then at least let me join you on patrol!" I insist, furiously trailing after the knight. "I mean, there's nothing else for me to do in this backwater village! I might as well do something productive with my time!"

Zachariah comes to an abrupt halt. I smack into his back, recoiling as I rub at my nose, tears prickling at my eyes in pain. When my vision managed to clear up, I find the knight facing me-but that's not the scary part. No, what is truly unsettling is his _expression._

His face is mostly devoid of all emotion, soulless and empty as a mannequin. The only part of him that gives away any sense of feeling is his eyes, suddenly sinister and foreboding. Fear races up, strangling me.

"And if I were to say that I would _strike you down_ for considering that?" Zachariah asks, his dead voice but a harsh whisper. He suddenly seems indifferent to blood lust and death threats. In this one instance, I immediately believe that he has killed as many people as Monoryuu claims he has.

I freeze up and hold my ground-not because I'm particularly brave, but for the same reason a deer stops at approaching car headlights. Paralyzed with terror. But I've come too far to back down now. I must, against all odds, press forward.

"You wouldn't." I say slowly, not quite sure how to defend my decision. Luckily, an explanation dawns on me. "You may be a killer, but you have standards; truths and morals that you abide by."_ A code of chivalry that he would never dare break,_ I add silently.

Zachariah's gaze hardens, taken slightly shaken by my statement. I wonder if that was the response he had least expected, especially coming from me. We watch each other closely, locked in a staring contest.

Then...

The knight takes a step forward. Pauses. Glances at me. Waits-giving me an opportunity to flee, I realize, before he easily catches up to me.

I hold my position. Surely Zachariah can't be serious. He _has_ to be bluffing. This is _him_ we're talking about. The buffoon wouldn't harm me, not when he thinks he's my friend, and not with all his jabberwocky about protecting said friends.

Another step. Two, three. Then he takes off like a jet, bolting at me at maximum speed. I flinch as the knight extends his arms, reaching out to seize me. Did I make the wrong choice to trust him? I should have known _better_! I should have run when I had the chance! I should have-

And before I know it, Zachariah's hands are not choking up my neck and crushing my windpipe, but at my sides, hoisting me up into the air. My stomach clenches up. _Oh no, not** this** again!_

"Milady, milady~ Oh, your kindness knows no bounds! I am blessed to have been graced with thy presence!" Zachariah chirps in glee, twirling me around in rapid circles. My mouth flies open and I squeal in horror-at the speed he's moving at, my skirt must be flapping about and exposing my _undesirables_ to the world!

"C-C-CEASE AND DESIST!" I bellow lividly, face flushed crimson red. I regret every nice and semi-nice thing I've said to him.

To my surprise, Zachariah immediately complies and places me back on the ground like a well-trained show dog. He wears a gigantic grin across his face. I refuse to put a positive adjective, such as "healthy" or "handsome" before "his face"; I'm irritated at the man!

"Y-You...YOU IDIOT!" I sputter, glaring at the knight. "What were you thinking?! You scared the living _daylights_ out of me!"

"My apologies! 'Twas a test of thy faith before I could allow thee on patrol duty. Had you fled, I would have concluded that thou were too weak of heart to join me in my morning mission." And with that, Zachariah places a hand on my head, patting me like a child. "Was it not a brilliant idea?"

"No, it was NOT!" I counter, gritting my teeth together. "Can you at least _try_ to be more-"

"My, _my._ Such crankiness first thing in the morning," a familiar, soft voice purrs, interjecting my sentence. Frieda steps out from the shadow of a building, a hand over her mouth. _Eavesdropping...?_ "I should have known it was you two when I heard the racket."

"Ah, Lady Frieda! Good morrow!" Zachariah exclaims, waving eagerly at the Loyal composer. "Where might our other allies be?"

"Who knows? Stowed away in their rooms, probably." Frieda says coolly, shrugging. "I personally came out here to see what was making the obnoxious din."

"Were we really _that_ loud?" I ask, flushing even deeper-this time in embarrassment.

The composer pushes up her gold rimmed glasses with two pointed fingers. "Perhaps you were, perhaps you weren't. My hearing is better than most others', remember?"

Right, that's how she found her way around in the woods during the Quest. Following the sounds of movement and distant dialogue. _Lies, truths, feelings...everything can be heard in the voice,_ Frieda had once said, _it is how the heart whispers to the outside world._

"Sorry for bothering you," I spit out sarcastically, earning a frigid, tight lipped smile from the musical Elite. The air is instantly charged with tension.

"No need to apologize," Frieda retorts, eyes calm and steely, "I imagine I must have startled you both by appearing out of nowhere. Still, I thought you might benefit from a little tip for your patrol."

"Oh! 'Twould be most appreciated!" Zachariah beams, jumping up like a puppy eager for a treat. _Yeesh,_ he's so excitable and eager to please. A knight with the body of a great dane and the personality of chihuahua...what a combination!

"You want to help us?" I demand, staring at the composer in suspicion. She giggles, cradling a cheek in one hand, glancing at me sideways.

"I want to see how this plays out," Frieda corrects me, a twinkle of amusement in her dark pupils. "The adventures of fickle little Estelle and her precious lap dog, solving emotional turmoil left and right."

That sounds like the most boring thing I can possibly imagine.

"You..." I openly frown at her, wondering if the Loyal student is taking our situation seriously at all. She appears to be much more intent on enjoying events unfold before her rather than anything else. "You know what? Never mind. I have better things to do than listen to your drivel. What's this tip of yours?"

Frieda smiles mysteriously. "I heard a sob from the outskirts of the village. A poor soul crying their heart out..." Her pulsating eyes dart me to gauge my reaction. I gaze back warily. "_Someone_ should go and comfort them."

"What?! From the outskirts of the village, you say?!" Zachariah gasps, lurching back in horror. "But the area outside is most perilous! Manifestations may attack at any given moment in time!"

"You'd better be on your way, then." Frieda suggests, tapping at an imaginary watch on her wrist. "The clock is going tick tock, tick tock."

"You heard Lady Frieda! Onward to victory!" Zachariah declares proudly, grabbing my by the arm and dragging me off. I grudgingly follow, shooting the composer an agitate look before she is out of sight. Hopefully, she stays out of _mind,_ too.

***ZACHARIAH GARMONT'S STORY UPDATED!***

**{Zachariah hails from the European country of Grohl, faithfully carrying out his master's orders, no matter how cruel. Although eccentric and a bit dense, he is also quite cultured and has a strong sense of justice. He has his "special something" on him at all times, apparently a gift from an old friend, whom Estelle reminds him of. Zachariah is not very likely to talk about his past, and would rather not dwell on it.}**

* * *

"...You may come out now."

"..."

"I _know_ you're there. Stop pretending that you are not. I easily heard your pathetic little wings swoop in."

"...Impressive, impressive! You've caught me red clawed! Well, I guess I should've expected no less from the Elite Composer! Good for you, missy! Give yourself a pat on the back!"

"Cut the crap. You've been spying on us for a while now, haven't you?"

"Heh, smart little bastard, aren't ya? So what if I have? I gotta keep track in case the corpse count goes up, right? And if no one decides to murder, then I just gotta push you noobs to murder!"

"Hm. The fact that you haven't made a move yet means you're plotting something."

"That's right...you have a problem with it? Like I said before...this is a fairy tale life of mutual killing...blood will be shed sooner or later..."

"Is this by order of the Author?"

"What makes you think an Author exists?"

"All this terminology you throw around...the Story, the Curse, the Characters...it makes it sound as though this were a piece of literature. And in literature, the one who penned it must exist somewhere. Do you take your orders from an Author?"

"Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, girlie! Whether he is real or fake or good or bad doesn't concern you!"

"Of course it does! It does because our _lives_ are on the line. Now _tell_ me!"

"Hell no! Piss off, ya great big wuss!"

"How mature of you."

"Look...you're not important in the long run, so just give up...You don't realize it now, but the _owl_ is playing you guys for fools too..."

"Fukushi has done nothing to warrant our hatred, unlike you."

"See, see? Foofy is deceiving you already! He may act all cute and innocent, but he plays _favorites_!"

"Favorites? I don't understand..."

"From the very beginning, even before the Story was changed, he had a _Protagonist_ picked out. The one he thinks will lead you shits to a Happy Ending! And now that it's a fairy tale life of mutual killin', Foofy's determined to keep the Protag alive. Screw everyone else! But if the Protag dies, the owl's plans went down the goddamn toilet."

"..."

"Hey, don't gimme that look! At least I'm fair! I want ALL of you to perish, not MOST of you to perish! Isn't that better?"

"I don't believe _this_-no, I don't believe _you_."

"Well, you _should_...You see, everyone has their own agenda. You don't have a right to criticize it, do you? Now...if you'll excuse me...I'm gonna go back to plotting my next move, as you called it...The next time you see me..."

"...You'll be giving us a motive for murder, won't you?"

"I don't need to do _that,_ silly! The cogs have already started spinning. The existence of a traitor, the armored murderer in your midst, the chance to escape...isn't that already motive_ enough_?"

"You want us to tear each other apart of our own accord, then."

"Duuuuh! Of course I do! Cuz that's the _bestest_ Story of all!"

"You're _sick_."

"Mweeheeheehee! Why, thank you!"

* * *

Zachariah and I come across one of the least likely candidates for crying just outside the village gates. Her golden hair stands out from behind a curtain of viridian leaves. Well, and no other student I know of lounges about in the tree tops quite like she does.

The Courageous student is quick to notice us.

"Well, lookee here!" Mana calls out, looking down on Zachariah and I from above. "You guys are a sight for sore eyes! Bubbles and Charming, sittin' in a tree, _k-i-s-s-i-n-g_! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Bubbles with a baby carriage!"

Zachariah frowns at her childish teasing. I'm not sure what part of it is repulsive to him, but I personally find every aspect of it disgusting. I feel like puking a little in my mouth. For once, we have the same (or at least a similar) reaction towards something.

"_You're_ the one sitting in a tree!" I retort, not in the mood to get further sassed. The mercenary rolls her eyes, clearly not taking my words seriously.

"Lady Mana, we beseech you to return to the village!" Zachariah pleads frantically, "'Tis unsafe out in the wild! Any manner of Manifestation or witchcraft could plague thee!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Mana sighs, making a clicking noise with her tongue against the back of her teeth. In one swift, elegant arc, she lands on her feet before us. Putting her hands on her hips, she raises an offended eyebrow at Zachariah. "What, you think I can't defend _myself,_ pretty boy?"

The knight meets her challenging gaze and says slowly, "I do not believe any of us are in a position to battle a Manifestation-not alone, at the very least."

"Smart answer. Better than the stuff you yelled before about protecting the weak and helpless. Looks like you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks after all." Mana comments, pulling back from what was about to become a full blown verbal assault. Her eyes pass over to me. The mercenary's lips curl up into a sly smile. "Ain't he a _peach,_ Bubbles?"

"He's a fleshy human potato sack." I reply flatly. I don't expect my lame attempt at making a joke to go over very well.

"Potato sack? Eh, that's quite specific. Why not a different vegetable? Eggplants are more skin-like than potatoes!"

I gawk at the Courageous girl. It's not like her to be this random and flattering, even if it isn't exactly entirely non sarcastic. She must be hiding something, or at the very least diverting the topic.

I stare harder at Mana's face. Upon closer inspection, her cheeks are tinged a little pink, and there are very faint streaks, most likely left behind by tears. It seems that Frieda was right about her tip-but Mana? _Really?_ Mana, of all people, sobbing by herself in the woods? Over _what?_

"Hey," I pipe up, "you were definitely crying earlier, weren't you?" This earns me a long, hard look from the mercenary.

"No, I wasn't." She informs me, her voice taking on a mild sharp edge. That's enough of a quiet threat for me to back off-at least for now. I don't want to get into any more trouble than it's worth.

"My mistake," I mutter, averting my eyes. I'm not going to stick my neck out for her. The conversation dwindles into an awkward silence until a happy-go-lucky knight goes and shatters it.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Zachariah demands, dropping his flowery speech in favor for a more serious tone. He peers closely at Mana's face, only a few inches away from his forehead knocking up against hers.

"Never been _more_ sure, Charming!" The mercenary insists, snapping at him like a piranha fish. Her cheeks flare up angrily, and she takes a hasty step back.

"Methinks thou dost spout lies, Lady Mana." Zachariah states bluntly. He brings himself closer, staring her down, only an inch or so away now. If I were in Mana's position, I would feel quite intimidated. "Lady Frieda advised us that you were feeling most unwell, so-,

"What gives you-or _her_-the right to say that?!" The Courageous girl sputters, shoving Zachariah away with both hands, "And you stay the hell out of my personal space-"

What happens next occurs all too quickly for me, and for even Mana to react to. In the next moment, Zachariah falls forward, arms encircling the mercenary before him and pulling her into a hug. A chorus of near incomprehensible gibberish erupts from both my mouth and Mana's.

"Wh-Wh-What are you doing?!" the mercenary shouts, twisting herself wildly in a desperate attempt to escape. But Zachariah's grip is iron and holds her still.

He says nothing to Mana, hugging her and hugging her until she pipes down and stops struggling. At long last, he lets go. Mana is no longer gaping; she instead purses her lips, eyes tightlined with wetness. The mercenary sighs, sniffling a little.

"Heh, showing sympathy will only get you a knife to your back in the future." She mumbles, staring at her feet. Mana doesn't want us to see the tears.

"I understand what is it like to be judged by thy talent. In times like these, we must lend each other helping hands." Zachariah replies-and in the back of my mind, something clicks.

Mana, too, is like Zachariah. A mercenary who kills for money and a knight who kills in the name of his master, both alienated in the world. They cling onto what they value the most, for everyone else rejects them. _That_ is why she weeps.

I gape at the knight. The buffoon figured it out before_ I_ could. This is something that lies beyond my understanding as a Wise student. No, this has quickly become a matter of something I can't possibly comprehend.

"We will leave you be." Zachariah murmurs, turning away. "I apologize for my earlier actions." He glances at me over his shoulder. "Come, milady. Let us continue our patrol elsewhere." I take a step to pursue him, but get stopped right in my tracks.

"Hold it, Charming," Mana cries, abruptly wrapping an arm around my shoulder, "I gotta have a little chat with Bubbles. Girl talk, ya know? She'll catch up with you soon." I shudder, staring at the mercenary in confusion.

"As you wish." Zachariah nods, marching off to a safe distance to grant us some privacy. My insides lurch, unsure of what Mana could possibly want to speak with me about.

"Soooo, Estelle." My head jolts up. I eye Mana with much wariness. She actually called me by my real name, I gasp, legitimately shocked. "Listen, about Zach..."

"What about him?"

"I know you may not like the guy, but even you must realize it by now. He's over the top, but he also has a good heart." When I don't respond, Mana continues, "At least his kills are in the name of his master, even if it is hella fucked up.

"I kill for cash because I have to. I have many masters, masters with no faces. The richer, the better. It doesn't matter who they want me to kill, cuz I'll do it for the right amount of coin. I've killed the elderly, the handicapped, mothers, fathers, and kids-I'm not honorable like _he_ is. He deserves to get treated better than this; he needs more friends."

"Why am _I_ the one being lectured on this?" I dare to inquire, earning a half-lidded stare from Mana. She is apparently unamused.

"Distrust makes us bitter and hateful people." She clarifies, eyes narrowing. Mana forces me closer and she hisses in my ear, "I learned that the hard way in my old mercenary's guild. That's why I left for good. When you're graced with the chance to change your ways and make friends, don't just throw it on the ground and shit on it. That goes for both you and m-"

At the last moment, she doesn't bother finishing her final remark. With her spiel done, Mana pushes me hurtling back with a half forced laugh. Part of me wonders if the Courageous girl was referring to _herself_ as desperate for companionship. I do not completely dismiss the notion.

"Have fun with him, Bubbles." the mercenary says with a cat-like grin. "Don't be dead the next time I see ya, 'kay?" And then she bounds by me, gone like the wind.

"All set, milady?" Zachariah calls from afar, his voice echoing off the rustic village roofs. I stare back at him, still somewhat bewildered from the talk with Mana. Shaking off the eerie feeling crawling up my spine, I nod at the knight and resume patrol with him.

We must all have more in common then we think we do.

***MANA FARVEOU'S STORY UPDATED!***

**{Mana is a member of a mercenary's guild known for distrust and cruelty. After leaving due to differences in ideals, she continued to take freelancing jobs in order to sustain herself. She seems to place high value in forming friendships with other people, but barely has any real friends of her own. Mana denies being weak hearted, but she has a soft side for those that have similar struggles as herself.}**

* * *

Later that night, I have a dreamless sleep.

It is, perhaps, worse than a nightmare. I float amidst a dark sea, submerged in everything and yet nothing at the same time. Light clashes with shadow, but ultimately cannot reach me, laid out in a glass coffin.

Without my dreams, I find myself awake and staring at the guild ceiling under the veil of twilight. The silver moon and stars peer at me through my window. My loneliness is illuminated under the night's discerning eye.

I am tired, and yet restless.

The mysteries have piled up, creating a mountain out of a mole hill. This Story, that Story, kill or be killed, monsters and magic...Mana and Zachariah, good or bad? Without the answers I seek, I can only sit and wonder until all my hair falls out.

Again, my pursuit of knowledge is disrupting my sanity. It's starting to interfere with my sleeping patterns. With time, it will only worsen.

I will likely never rest peacefully again.

...And that's when I have a crazy idea.

_Take a midnight stroll._

From within me, my common sense says it is a horrible idea. An angel on my shoulder points out, _Remember what Carina said? If you step outside the guild at night, someone can attack you, and no one would be all the wiser._ A demon on my other shoulder argues, _Come on! If you can't sleep, then tire yourself out. Don't worry. No one else will be awake at this hour. You'll be fine._

It boils down to one main question.

Not how much I trust _myself_, but how much I trust _them_; the other Elites.

I think of Zachariah and Mana. Of their moronic antics, and also of their better fronts. Like a coin with two sides. Black and white, dark and light, wrong and right.

I don't know _what_ I believe in anymore.

I swallow the hard lump in my throat. Cold sweat beads on my forehead. My hands are clammy and feel dead. But I creak out of my bed of straw and I throw on my fire proof red cloak, bracing myself for the chilly night.

At the front doors to the guild, I pause, giving myself the chance to rethink my next move. In a guilty gesture, I look to own feet, praying that this decision will not cost me my life. _Hm?_ That's odd-there is a powdery white substance scattered about the entryway. I don't think anything of it; it's just a random spill.

Breathe in, breathe out. Giving my bed room one last look over my shoulder, I slip out and vanish into the night.

_It is rather difficult for me to predict what your next move will be,_ Fukushi had said.

_Yes, yes it certainly is._

* * *

The wind is like a knife to my cheeks, but the sharp click of my feet against cobblestone paths calms my nerves. It is rhythmic and drum-like, music against the pavement. _I can go anywhere in the village,_ I think to myself, rather pleased at the illusion of freedom.

I suppose I can look at the stores around the village square. They had a lot of neat wares I didn't get a good chance to look at before. My eyes run over the array of wooden shop signs hanging above entrance ways.

The baker's.

The candlestick maker's. As I walk by this particular store, I nearly trip myself on a wooden plank hastily thrown to the ground. _That's strange...that wasn't there before._ But I must continue into the night.

The-

A sharp pang assaults my nostrils as I pass the butcher's. It is a smell akin to rusting nails and fading lights. Fresh blood-and not coming from inside the shop, I realize. My insides go cold, colder than the night breeze.

Staring at the glass of the butcher's, I see the reflection of the water fountain and all of its intricacies. The haunting story figures depicted along the base cackles quietly at me. Dead in the center, a blindfolded statue weeps bitter tears, water pooling below her. A groan comes from the other side of the fountain.

My chest tightens, my breathing growing shallow.

Someone is _there._

"H-Hello?" I call out hesitantly, praying that I was just hearing things. Apparently, I am not. The groaning comes again, this time louder and clearly more pained. I quiver in place, frightened for my safety. I almost decide to flee before a different thought emerges.

What if it is not an attacker, but the attacked? A victim flickering between life and death, in need of medical attention? _If so..._

Before I know it, I leap into action, riddled with worry. I find myself rushing over to the fountain, my crimson hood and cape billowing behind me. And then, I see it-or rather, I see _her._

A body is messily sprawled out, one side of her head swollen and pouring magenta blood onto the stone path. Although she is dressed in a golden Camelot Academy uniform, a jade pendant on a silver chain around her neck, I have never seen her before. Her limp, slender body is leaning against the base of the water fountain, pallid in the moonlight. The stranger's oriental features are clouded over, breaths sharp and jagged. Her waist length raven hair is a mess, totally disheveled and bloodied.

"A-Are you okay?!" I exclaim, scrambling to the girl's side. Putting my hands on her shoulders, I shake her clumsily. I feel a jolt against my skin-there is still a bit of life left in her. Slowly, she looks up to me, her eyes dull.

"Ah...it's..._you_..." the stranger mutters weakly. The girl struggles to sit up more properly, but ultimately fails.

"You...You know me?" I inquire of the stranger-but several moments pass and she doesn't respond. I begin to panic and shake her a second time. "H-Hey, stay with me now!' I snap, grabbing her consciousness again despite feeling woozy myself. It takes all of my willpower to not faint from the sight of the blood tricking down the right ride of her face. "W-Who did this to you?!"

"No...doesn't matter...not anymore..." the girl pauses, launching into a coughing fit. Upon finally settling down, she adds, "Save...yourself...from the one that does not belong in the Story...the interloper; the Self Insert..."

"W-What are you saying?! Of course it matters who attacked you...! Don't try to change the subject!" I command, but the stranger doesn't bother to answer. Either she is running out of energy fast, or my words have fallen upon deaf ears. "L-Look, stay put! I'll run to the apothecary's and see what sort of medicine I can scrounge together!"

I start to stand up, but she manages to reach out and faintly tug on my arm. When I glance back at her, she wears a defeated, melancholy smile.

"I won't...make it..."

"You _will_!" I retort stubbornly, my voice spiking up and turning shrill. "You'll be fine! Y-You_ have_ to be! You-"

My blood freezes in my veins.

The arm tugging on my goes completely limp and drops. Her eyes flutter close for eternity. She looks serene and peaceful. And she is dead. Gone forever.

My breathing intensifies. Everything around me starts to spin and blur. Sounds seem muted and far away. Colors appear washed out and bleak. Nothing is as it was before, or will ever be.

A scream of terror erupts from my mouth.

Then the darkness embraces me.

* * *

"...I hope this was the right thing to do."

It begins _now._

The fairy tale life of mutual killing.

The new Story.

The _true_ first Chapter.

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7=**

**Anyway, free time events will work a bit differently in this SYOC. Technically, baking with Priscilla and Lance was considered a FTE, but the E-Scrolls did not update, and while talking to Zach and Mana was not a FTE, but the E-Scrolls did update. The E-Scrolls with automatically update whenever new information about a student is gleaned, especially pertaining to their past. This can happen inside of FTEs (doing activities with other students) or outside of FTEs (just randomly talking to them).**

**Hey, so for future chapters, I will respond to the previous chapter's reviews in the beginning. I will not publicly respond to reviews via PM just to respect the privacy of those individuals. Thanks, and enjoy!**

**Shaggy Rower: Yup, I will be updating more frequently now that summer is here. Hope you liked chapter 8!**

**PoisonBanana: Yes siree Bob, I'm back. Because I'm such a horrible person, I like piling on the guilt and shame onto the characters. It's Zach's turn this particular chapter, but I'm sure everyone will get hit with the pain train sooner or later. Can't wait to get the killing game started.**

**I have decided that about every 10 chapters, there will be an easter egg of some sort. Chapter 10 will be an anime opening sequence for OMMM, featuring altered lyrics and the Elites, of course. If you have ideas for the opening, FTEs, or for future easter eggs, please let me know.**

**Investigation starts soon; don't miss it! Also, 125% more tsundere...?**

**See you all (hopefully) next time!**


	10. Omake 1: Anime Opening Sequence

**Omake is a Japanese term that refers to a "bonus" or "extra". In manga, this usually means a four panel comic that is relatively not plot heavy or a short chapter that involves just messing around. God knows that those are my favorites.**

**This opening sequence was inspired by SDproductions' "Double or Nothing" SYOC, the original "Never Say Never" opening from Danganronpa, Princess Tutu, and Kiznaivers. There will be an omake for OMMM every 10 chapters! If there is anything you would like to see, please leave it in a review.**

**On another note, I will be closing the serial killer idea poll up soon, so this is your last chance to vote!**

**Oh yeah, and stay tuned for a little contest-y thing at the end of this chapter. Winner gets a one-shot written by me (because that's just how bored I am).**

**Enjoy while I work on chapter 11, the first investigation!**

* * *

**Danganronpa: Once**

Opening Sequence

_Words Unheard_

* * *

A soft, haunting music box melody plays as an image flickers into view. At a dusty wooden desk by feeble candle light, a hunched over figure scribbles furiously into a thick tome. The Danganronpa opening music notes swell up, overtaking the lullaby as the writer abruptly stands up, throwing his quill down. In the process, he knocks over a bottle of ink, which spills onto a white page.

The camera rapidly zooms in on the tainted sheet, transitioning to the title card. In this moment, the invading ink seems to go into slow motion, creeping up to swallow the words on the paper.

**[Danganronpa: Once]**

The spilled ink returns to regular speed, quickly engulfing the title card. Once the screen is completely black, the darkness is torn in half by ghostly white hands, the fingernails a blood red color.

For just a split second, one can make out a porcelain white face giggling in amusement, cloaked by swirls and whirls of pink...hair? Cotton candy? Cloth? You are not quite sure _what_ it is, exactly.

_**[Reality slips farther away]**_

The camera pans to a detailed pencil sketch of Halkyonia's outskirts. The village is surrounded by a protective stone wall, and as the camera rotates around, a female figure is superimposed standing to the east and a second figure (this one male) is superimposed facing the west. Even though the two figures are far away, it is easy to make out that both of them wear white lab coats, although the male is grinning and has a filthy, stained coat while the female is mid-sigh and has a pristine one.

Shadows loom overhead, threatening to eat them up. The female looks disinterested, instead glancing to a flaming bird sailing in from above. Meanwhile, the male laughs, taking his time stroking a winged reptile under its neck.

An unseen pen scrawls across the screen; **[?]** and **[?]**.

_**[Fiction crawls alive; let's set the stage]**_

The more the camera circles Halkyonia, the more colored ink bleed in from the corners of the screen, pouring life, shades, and textures to the village. When the scene is fully fleshed out, the camera rushes through the front gates and inside the village, blurring into white curtains on a dark stage. Milky white set pieces drop from the ceiling, including what appears to be the outline of a human body and a bloodied knife. A crooked moon and a shower of stars are lowered from stage support beams.

We pull back to reveal an audience of black and white humanoid shapes, wide smiles drawn on. _"Ha, ha!"_ blares across the screen, like a sound effect drawn in a comic book. Some of the blobs point to the stage, while others turn to their neighbors and start _"Yap, yap, yap!"_-ing as signified by similar sound effects. Distorted versions of the same sounds have been faintly mixed into the audio.

_**[Hope is forlorn behind a closed door]**_

The camera pulls further back, exiting through the entrance of an unknown building. The double doors slam shut; one half is a deep cream color and lined with gold swirls, the other half is deep ebony and dotted with red gemstones.

A girl in a deep outfit strewn with stars drops in, hanging upside down from the top of the frame. She wears a giant smile on her face as she waves the elaborate baton in her hands, shooting confetti into the air. Her name and title appear in bubbly, colorful writing before vanishing; **[Nissa Marigold: Kind Illusionist]**.

_**[As the lines of the Script blur to gray once more]**_

A short boy with a cap of violet hair pops up from the lower half of the screen. He frowns, batting at his monochrome suit as confetti rains down on him. In his hands, a puppet in a curly mustache and similar suit cackles. Elegant cursive font jumbles into view; **[Lance Hawthorn: Wise Ventriloquist]** and** [Mustachio Pete: Some Puppet]**.

_**[Hope and hopelessness become one]**_

In the next shot, we see two different students bump into each other in front of a line of shops. The girl that falls onto the ground is in a conservative red gown and sports choppy blonde bangs. A proud looking falcon rests on her left shoulder. Etched onto the cobblestone path is **[Carina Arcard: Loyal Falconer]** and **[Icarus: Animal Companion]**.

_**[It's all meaningless; the Story's just begun]**_

The red beaded boy that knocked her down glances up from the compass he was staring at, laughs uneasily, and offers a hand to help her up. He is dressed in plaid and his clothes look heavily worn, as though he has been everywhere in them. **[Jaxon Caldwell: Courageous Wayfarer]** is spelled out by twigs on the cobblestone path beneath him.

Carina stand up by herself, ignoring Jaxon's hand, and dusts herself off.

Icarus shrieks and takes off, swooping past the screen.

_**[See, we are all one and the same,]**_

A lone falcon feather drifts down against a brilliant blue sky, twirling like a ballerina in a complicated dance. A hand catches it between the thumb and index finger.

The camera cuts to a white haired student in a mailman's outfit and a carrier bag slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he juggles a tower of boxes and envelopes. An elaborate water fountain towers behind him, water spilling forth from a statue's cupped hands. The boy waves the feather he found excitedly, only to have his packages topple over. A falling envelope flits past the screen, and in neat black letters, reads **[Thomas Durandal: Loyal Courier]**.

_**[On equal ground when facades are the game]**_

Following this, a musical score floats by, and is promptly caught by a girl with wavy azure hair in a high ponytail and gold rimmed glasses. A conductor's baton is tucked behind one of her ears. She quickly scans the page, tapping her foot in a quick rhythm, before tossing the sheet to the wind again. As it floats away, we see her name and title scrawled at the top: **[Frieda Gatzemeyer, Loyal Composer]**.

_**[We teeter on the brink of hope and despair]**_

The musical score plants itself against the window pane of the apothecary's. Peering inside, we cut to a shot of a pale skinned girl with a bow in her dark hair running a finger down an ingredient list for concocting medicine. She mumbles something to herself, counting on her fingers. Numbers rush by in the backdrop, transforming into letters; **[Ellanora Maria Addeneil: Wise Statistician]**.

_**[Can't keep hiding from the truth when it's already there]**_

The camera swivels to the face of the boy behind her, who is examining jars of small pickled vegetables, animal parts, and bottled herbs, running his fingers along the shelves. Although he wears an eyepatch and several animal hide and teeth accessories, his expression is lax and gentle. When the camera circles a second time, we see his name and title cleanly engraved onto the rifle slung on his back: **[Ricard Bell: Kind Hunter]**.

_**[Told so many lies I don't know if I can find me]**_

We close up on the silver barrel of the rifle and pull back to see a giant of a student in a gray smock and bandanna sweating over a fire. He strikes the piece of metal he has submerged in flames, sending sparks flying everywhere. The boy makes a swift movement and pulls the metal out, proceeding to pound it into a thin sheet. The flames behind him launch up into the air and proclaim: **[Cado Stone: Loyal Blacksmith]**.

_**[To get a Happy Ending, we gotta choose Wisely]**_

In the next frame, a collection of knick-knacks spills across the screen, including toy parts, worn out tools, and charcoal pencils. A feminine looking young man with long jet black bangs picks up an ornate snow globe, shaking it up and down to send snow-like particles drifting down inside the glass capsule. Inside the globe are three figures, one cloaked in white, one sheathed in black, and the middle one in gray. The white and black figures are tugging in either hand of the gray one, trying to convince it to take their side.

A piece of tape on the snow globe marks it as a work in progress with messy black letters. The creator is **[Endi Amos: Kind Craftsman]**.

_**[Wrong or right?]**_

A golden coin is flipped into the air, taking up the entirety of the screen before falling back into tan hands. On one side is a sneering dragon, and on the other is a worried looking owl. As the coin continuously spins midair, the expressions of the two creatures change.

_**[Do you even know what side you're on?]**_

The owner of the coin, a mischievous looking boy with spiky auburn hair and fingerless black gloves, displays a wide, toothy grin as he catches it. He tosses the coin again, and as it approaches the screen, the boy's identity, **[Michael Jagner: Wise Bandit]** flashing across before it clatters onto the ground.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he lets out a laugh and bitterly kicks the coin away. It collides with the screen, but doesn't break anything or cause damage.

_**[Does it really matter if we're on the same Page?]**_

A hand pantomiming a gun pans in from the left side of the screen and positions itself next to a blonde girl's temple. Although she dresses in a delicate blouse and long skirt, there is a fierce look in her emerald eyes. She pretends to fire off, winking to the camera cheekily. The shot focuses in on the large bulletin board behind the girl, which is filled to the brim with tacked up notes.

On a particularly worn sheet of paper is **[Mana Farveou: Courageous Mercenary]** in glass-like lettering. On the sheets surrounding this are various wanted posters and miscellaneous requests.

_**[If you think 'n believe you're gonna find the key,]**_

The center of Mana's poster spontaneously catches fire. It quickly incinerates away the image of the bulletin board to reveal a plump girl in a frilly pink apron in a messy bakery. She grabs a kitchen knife and drives it into a very thin multi-layered baked good-a galette de rois, or a king's cake.

The student promptly plates the slice she cut up and thrusts it welcomingly at the camera. At the angle the slice is at, a golden key peers out from the cake filling. The head of the key resembles a crown. Written in bright pink icing on the side of the plate the slice is served on is **[Priscilla Olry: Courageous Baker]**.

_**[Time's not now, Spell's cast, is there a way to be free?]**_

Fists and a series of throws enter in from the right side of the screen, literally knocking out the previous shot from existence. A muscular girl in a plain outfit and boxing gloves demonstrates a sequence of attacks on a dummy propped up on a wooden stick. Because of how the wind is blowing and of how quickly she is moving, it looks as though she is dancing.

The girl grits her teeth and takes out the dummy in a single punch, then stands triumph over her fallen foe. She wipes some sweat from her forehead with the back of an arm. There is a close up of her boxing gloves, which have letters stitched onto them; **[Johanna Zeal: Kind Boxer]**.

_**[Take all your pain and just stow it away]**_

The screen flickers to grainy, low quality sepia footage of what appears to be a castle corridor. Suits of armor are lined up on either side like a robotic army, staring down anyone who dares to pass. At the end of the hallway is a massive bejeweled throne. Strewn about the floor are fallen warriors and blood drenched weapons.

For a split second, a figure appears to be lounging on the throne, legs and arms lazily spilling over it. They wear a large, almost sadistic grin on their face.

_**[There's still hope hidden within the despair]**_

The image of the throne room stops behaving in a static manor and goes still, revealing itself to have been pictures in a story book. It's velvet red cover falls over and closes up the tale. Scrawled as the title in golden font is "The Story". The camera pulls away from the book to reveal three figures with their backs to the lens, each placing a hand over the cover.

_**[Move on; look for the truth in this world]**_

Two paper cutouts spin onto the screen, slowing to reveal a monochrome dragon and a tawny owl in a monocle and bow tie. The dragon's expression changes from sweet to livid to bored, and ultimately lingers a face of mad laughter. Meanwhile, as the owl cutout twirls around, his expressions change from pride to concern to surprise. He holds a look of suspicion, eyes leaning toward his reptilian counterpart.

An unseen crayon scribbles the name **[Monoryuu: Great Witch's Familiar]** over the dragon and **[Fukushi: The Story's Narrator]** over the owl.

_**[Such dedication; you have only one shot!]**_

The screen cuts to the emerald green of the enchanted forest, where a face paced chase scene ensues. The background blurs out while the center figures, Monoryuu and Fukushi, sharpen. They rush through the woods at high speed, flapping their wings to keep up with their respective opponent.

Monoryuu shoots fire out of his mouth, which Fukushi dodges and then takes the opportunity to dive in and peck on the dragon's head. The familiar uses his scaled head to smash into Fukushi and knock him away. Fukushi retaliated by tackling into the dragon, and the two get into a wrestling match midair.

The entire scene eventually fades into a pixelated black and white backdrop.

_**[Slip through the confusion]**_

A ghostly line up of various unknown people appear, their faces blank and lifeless. A girl with long bangs and the rest of her hair pulled back from her face walks from left to right, hands firmly at her sides. She glances over her shoulder, gazing at the path she has walked, smiles, and continues on her way.

_**[Pen a solution]**_

At this point, the strange girl is already long gone, but from the left enters a frantic looking boy. He seems to be searching for something, or someone, from the way he continuously glances around. The boy wears a navy suit with a crimson cravat, his chestnut hair up in quiff. He firmly clutches a hand to his heart and darts to the right.

_**[Piece together their trials and tales]**_

The ghostly figures in the back rapidly vanish one by one. The boy from earlier rushes back from the right side, now clad in armor and a billowing navy cape. Tucked under one arm is a metal helmet with colorful plumage. He scouts the area for life, but spots the camera instead and straightens, saluting to the audience.

A sword launches across the screen, making out part of the letter "Z" in his name and title; **[Zachariah Garmont: Elite Knight]**.

_**[Just grasp it, go for it]**_

The sword positions itself vertically and falls, setting itself into a great stone. A ruby red gem set into its hilt gleams mysteriously. Two hands reach out to pull the weapon free, but the outcome never comes; instead, the camera closes up on the jewel.

_**[O-O-Once]**_

_**[Please, do it for them!]**_

The faces of all the Elites flash across the face of the gem, each expressing terror, disdain, or shock. Bright pink blood splatters across the jewel as the faces quickly alternate.

_**[Break through the confusion]**_

The camera hones in on the red color of the gem, then zooms out to show a short figure in a red cloak and hood standing on the outskirts of the village. The picnic basket in one of her hands flies away from a harsh gust of wind, spilling its contents onto a field of grass. Various fruit, a piece of deflated, burnt bread, and a small glass bottle filled with a suspicious violet tonic tumble out.

_**[Find a solution]**_

The cloaked person crouched down to pick up her belongings, and we see that she is hugging a thick tome close to her chest. Another strong breeze pries the book from her hands, swiftly flipping through pages and pages of diagrams and complex notes.

_**[Beat the twisted, evil things]**_

Fight scenes flash across the screen of the students facing giant monsters. The only color in these scenes is the pink highlights of blood. Between every other image of a perilous situation is the red cloaked girl standing by herself, casting a shadow of light in a valley of darkness.

_**[Just do it, go for it]**_

A pendulum swings across the screen, and we return to the girl with her picnic basket, who has finally picked up all of her things. She gives the faintest of smiles and throws down her hood, reveal two golden braids and a child-like, innocent face, cheeks flushed pink from the chilly wind. On the back of her book is **[Estelle Malgosia: Wise Mythologist]**.

She glances up at the sky as her small grin widens into a smirk. The camera pulls away from her and transitions into the grand blue yonder, the sun beaming down cheerily.

_**[O-O-Once]**_

In the final shot, the camera plunges into village square, which has now been converted into an elaborate outdoor courtroom. The cobblestone paths have become raised platforms for sixteen students, each of which is pictured on a pike with a bloody "X" over their face as the camera rotates around. Golden spikes surge up, forming glittering cages entangled in flowers and vines around each photograph on a pike. In the center, the water fountain has been replaced with a dark cauldron, its bubbling green goo casting an eerie light over the buildings.

Looming over all this is a small throne with a stuffed dragon plushie, a gavel, and bright red button seated in the cushion.

_**[End it;]**_

_**[It's Story time~]**_

The camera zooms in on the button, which shows the reflections of the sixteen terrified students. Once each Elite's face has flashed on the button, the plushie dragon springs to life, seizes the gavel, and smashes the button as hard as it can.

A flash of light consumed the screen, and once it has cleared away, there is naught but a lone storybook under a bright spotlight. Everything else around it is pure black.

The storybook slowly opens to the first page, where the word _"Fin"_ is written in tiny, neat, concise letters.

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Er, hope that opening wasn't too bad. It's pretty different than what I'm used to writing. Once my drawing tablet arrives in the mail, I can hopefully draw up some of these images to help readers better visualize everything. Unfortunately, the first tablet I got a few weeks back was defective and I'm waiting to be sent a new one from the company.**

**On to responding to the reviews!**

**PoisonBanana: Ah, yes…Through the wise words of a talking owl, Estelle makes more efforts to befriend others (er, although her reasoning for doing so is rather methodical…she basically needs to sate her own curiosity). Would you like a side of tsundere with your order of fries?**

**Yup, the first victim is really going to throw everyone for a loop. Who is she? Why is she here? Is she another part of the Story? They may never know…well, at least probably not until the latter half of the SYOC.**

**Shaggy Rower: The other Elites will be killed eventually…especially seeing as one of them is the killer, right? And you never know, perhaps the Story is a bit more complex than Self-Insert = Traitor…or maybe I'm just egging you on and making you second guess yourself.**

**ChocolateRoseNinja: Oh, good. I'm glad the way FTEs vs talking are structured in OMMM aren't disruptive to the story. Even the weird students like Zach and the sarcastic ones like Mana can have sympathetic personalities and pasts behind it all. They didn't do any specific activities with Estelle just because it made more sense seeing what sort of protagonist Estelle is…she didn't like Mana and Zach from the beginning, so just talking with them was more reasonable.**

**Yes, Estelle is slowly turning over a new leaf, but not without acting all tsundere about it. She certainly won't be able to figure out all the full Stories of her classmates, but she will get to interact with everyone a decent amount.**

**After I close my current poll, I will probably put up another one to see which FTEs people want to see. Based on how comfortable Estelle is with the students elected, I will determine whether or not she will do something with them or just talk with them.**

**Hm, hm~ Speculate all you like. Keeps you entertained while I work on the investigation.**

**Yes, chapter 9 was mostly a build up to the body discovery. Mana and Zach were featured as a way of easing Estelle into being more readily willing to help out her classmates. I mean, if the ones she disliked from the beginning show some sense of decency, it's sure to change her mind about everyone else, even if only a little bit. The other Elites will have roles in the investigation, I promise!**

**RandomGuyonthestreet13: Hello, hello! I haven't seen your face in the review section before! Thank you for your time and input!**

**The victim is not someone Estelle had previously met in the Story. She is a complete stranger and has not been seen prior to chapter 9.**

**Ooh, erased from existence? Interesting speculation, my dear reader. Very interesting indeed…**

**Only time will tell! Keep reading to find out~**

**I'm about a fifth or a quarter of the way done with chapter 11! I'll be on travelling on the road for the next few days, but I'll try to get as much writing done on the ride as I can.**

**Mm, I feel like writing something, but I don't know what it should be about…Hey, tell you guys what. The first person who correctly guesses who my favorite Danganronpa character is in the reviews (or comes close) gets to request a one-shot written by me. The only restrictions are nothing M-rated, and it must be a request for a franchise or fandom I know of so I can accurately portray its world and characters. If you want to play it safe, you can always request a Danganronpa piece. I'd prefer it if you had a account too, so I can discuss the details of the one-shot with the winner over PM.**

**Thanks, and I'll (hopefully) see you guys next chapter!**


	11. Heart of Pyrite

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a TOWN built on LIES and DECEPTION.**_

_**Below the surface of the TOWN, a feud raged on between the CITIZENS and its MAFIA. Thus, each person kept hush, hush about their true IDENTITIES. The MAFIA were out to lynch CITIZENS, and CITIZENS out to lynch MAFIA. It was all one continuous of GAME of HIDE and SEEK. CORPSES continued to pile up and up, and the population dropped as people FLED from TOWN, fearful for their lives.**_

_**The one who REMAINED smiled.**_

_**"It appears as though I WIN."**_

_**But was his heart forged of GOLD or PYRITE?**_

_**None know.**_

* * *

I feel a strange sense of déjà vu overtaking me.

There is a mild pounding sensation that accompanies my loss of consciousness. I flip back and forth between a swamp of darkness and a sea of light. Perhaps, I think, this is the feeling that Buddhist monks achieving when they ascend onto a higher plane. Enlightened and terrified all at the same time.

Something-or _someone_-suddenly applies light pressure to my forehead. My skin stings, but the pain quickly subsides. The warmth fans out, then contracts, and fans out again, migrating to my hair. Then comes the scent of clean linen and musk.

It's nice._ Soothing_, even. Like an old friend's embrace.

...Not that I have any.

There is shuffling, followed by slight movement. A sigh is heaved. The warmth feathers across my forehead again, sweeping my skin in a fluid motion. At this point, I manage to mumble out an incomprehensible gargle of words. I'm sure I sound _very_ intelligent.

My face goes cold as the warmth retreats into the shadow realm. I try to call it back, but to no avail. With limbs of lead and vocal chords of string cheese, I can do nothing but continue to lie in place.

I hear distant voices. They are muffled, but clearly frantic. Someone raises their volume, spiking into shrill territory. The pounding in my head intensifies. I feel as though I may rip in half.

Slowly, but surely, my eyes flicker. The world around me is but a blurry jumble of colors, sharpening bit by bit as my sight lingers. Figures fly into view. Sensations become better defined; sounds and visions, crystal clear.

The apothecary's-I'm definitely in the apothecary's, I realize, in the dimly lit back room for patients. Up ahead, I can see that the shop is not nearly as tidy as it was before. Jars and bottles are smashed into indiscernible shards on the floor, their contents littering the ground. A small group of Elites-Carina, Ellanora, and Ricard-looms over the mess, exchanging knowledge with varying degrees of composure.

I appear to be lying down in a cot of some sort, wrapped in a comforter like a cocoon. The back of my head still hurts, although it seems to have dulled for the time being. Bringing a trembling hand to my forehead, I find that I have been bandaged with spare white cloth.

_Who...?_

"Awake at last, milady?" a familiar voice inquires from the darkness. My head whips in the direction of the baritone to find Zachariah stepping out of a pitch black corner of the room. He wears a concerned smile as he approaches, kneeling next to me by the bed. "How art thou faring?"

The first thing that comes to me is an image of a girl caked in blood, the moonlight illuminating her lifeless form. Her energy quietly fading from her body as I supported her in my arms, passing from this world to the next. A poor, unfortunate soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I...I'm..." My voice trails off, unable to complete my initial statement. I stare blankly at the knight for several moments, but my mind has already clearly made up what it wants to express to him. I don't give him an answer; I deal him a few questions instead.

"Where is the body?" I demand, sending Zachariah recoiling in shock. My gaze hardens, but my voice immediately starts cracking. "What happened to her? _What happened_?!"

I lurch forward mid-exclamation, a twinge of pain shooting up my spine making me double over. The knight swoops in, helping me sit back up while tsking at my behavior. I continue to pout in indigence, but spit out a thank you regardless. I need information, and I need it_ now._

"Calm yourself." Zachariah suggests, putting a hand on my head and giving me a firm pat. "Anger at a time like this benefits no one. You must rest and recover from the horrific sight you have witnessed."

"Someone is _dead_," I cry, openly glaring at the Courageous student, "and you expect me to be CALM about it?! I _deserve_ to know what's going on!"

Zachariah's mouth flies open, prepared to argue back, but he thinks better of it and shuts himself up. He buries his head in his hands, massaging his whole face briefly before responding with a groan. "I happened upon thee, as well as...the unknown young woman's corpse...during my early rounds of the village. You had injured thy head, so I sought to it to dress thy wounds here. Then I alerted our comrades in arms of the situation, and...well, here we are."

My muscles relax, relieved at knowing that not much time has passed. A new inquiry launches out-one that I'm almost afraid to say for fear of a jinx. "So what comes next...?"

"Well..." Zachariah hesitates, pursing his lips, carefully choosing his next words. "_Characters may not leave the Story unless they kill another Character and avoid being found out_," he finally recites in a grave tone, verbatim from the revised Laws of Storytelling.

I pale, clutching onto my bed sheets like a horrified child. Someone bought the dragon's claims. They wanted to get out, so they up and murdered another student, then went into hiding. And now it falls to _us_ to find the killer.

"That's_ crazy_!" I exclaim, my voice revving up like a motorcycle engine. I'm pretty sure the Elites at the front of the shop can hear me. My face flushes red with a mixture of emotions. Terror, rage, and even a dosage of curious excitement, my heart hammering against my rib cage. "H-How are we supposed to pinpoint a murderer?! What's the _point_?!"

"You missed the body discovery announcement from Monoryuu," a pointed voice snaps, the owner marching up to my cot, arms crossed against her chest, "We were informed that we have a predetermined amount of time to investigate before the class trial. There, we shall find our culprit. The dragon promised further details pertaining to consequences once the actual trial rolls around." Carina is fuming-and Icarus, as per usual, imitates her expressions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the worried gazes of Ricard and Ellanora. The statistician snaps away from me the moment our eyes meet. She pretends to busy herself with surveying the shattered containers on the floor. Ricard mouths, _Do you need help?_ to me, but Ellanora tugs on his arm, vigorously shaking her head. She is telling him to stay out of it.

"I would advise that the two of you get up and start contributing to this investigation." Carina says sharply, addressing Zachariah and I. She sinks her invisible talons into our flesh, harping on our current state of sloth.

"But Lady Carina!" Zachariah protests, leaping back to his full height, "Milady is suffering from a mild head injury! Should she not be granted the proper time to recoup from such damage?!"

"I don't want to hear that from one of the students who _deliberately_ disobeyed my orders! I _clearly_ said to stay in your guild rooms at night, and _what_ did you do? You _blatantly_ ignored me!" Carina counters bitterly, not at all intimidated by the knight's stature. "If you two had been children of the Arcard household, you would not be getting off with just a slap on the wrist! A simple investigation would have been the very _least_ of your worries!"

"Your family sounds like a bunch of militant dictators...hmph, just like you," I mutter under my breath, only to earn a harsh stare from Carina.

"For your information, they are scholars, much like yours. Stern, yet fair," the falconer states bluntly, eyes narrowing, "and they would expect_ better_ from us-from _me_-so you had better rectify this, Miss Malgosia. The same goes for _you_, Mister Garmont. Layabouts are not appreciated; we need as much help as we can get. Refusal to cooperate will leave me no choice but to suspect you."

"Suspect me?!" I utter in disbelief, gaping at the falconer. "You don't honestly think _I_ did it, do you?!"

"You were allegedly the first to discover the body. In fact, your hands were slightly bloodied when Zachariah found you. It has been cleaned off now, but that doesn't change anything. Therefore, you must have had some sort of contact with the corpse. We have every right to be suspicious." Carina replies, completely calm. A acrid, dry taste fills my mouth, transforming it into a desert. She _can't_ be serious!

"Milady would never even consider committing such a _heinous_ crime!" Zachariah barks, eagerly leaping to my defense. I internally cringe, but am somewhat grateful at the same time. Must he always insist on fighting others' battles for them? Must be always risk himself for the wellbeing of others?

"Oh? Then perhaps it was _you_, Mister Garmont." Carina switches her accusation over to the knight. "You certainly possess the physical prowess to eliminate someone. After all, you have had a long history of murdering in the name of your master. Given your strength, you could have easily killed one of us and knocked someone else out, planting them at the scene of the crime to take the blame for you."

"On my honor as a knight, I swear to thee that I-"

"T-That's preposterous!" I pipe up, cutting off whatever Zachariah was going to say. But n-not because I'm defending him or anything! I'm just irritated with Carina's purposefully vague claims, that's all! She is trying to drive me up a wall! "He has said time and time again that he is against killing his friends, which he considers all of us to be! Zachariah only kills when his lord commands him to, and that lord isn't here to issue orders!"

The knight stares at me, stunned by my short speech. Perhaps he has spent so long protecting others that he was not expecting someone to protect him in return. Carina, meanwhile, is not at all fazed.

"Actions speak louder than words, Miss Malgosia." the falconer announces, her eyes dancing across my features. Silently challenging me to rise up to the task. "Make yourselves useful and prove your innocence, just as the rest of us must."

And with that, Carina spins around on her heel and proceeds to saunter toward the exit. Ricard and Ellanora, who had previously been awkwardly examining the wreckage of the apothecary's, clear out of her way. The falconer means serious business, and no one wants to stand between her and the truth.

"H-Hey! Where are you going?! This isn't over yet!" I sputter after Carina, who glances over her shoulder and responds coolly.

"To examine the victim's body. Someone with a _keen eye_ has to do it, not the buffoons guarding it...lest we allow an important clue to slip away unnoticed. And you are right, Miss Malgosia. It _isn't_ over yet. It's not over until the fat lady sings." She waves off-handedly before adding, "Oh, and you may want to consult your E-Scroll. Fukushi was kind enough to provide us with whatever dirt he could manage to pull up."

The door slams. She is gone.

I immediately reach for my E-Scroll and tear it open. With a brilliant flash of light, new golden words unfurl themselves across the parchment paper. I realize that it is magically updating the profiles of some of the other Elites, for the information I obtained on Zachariah and Mana appear in a flash. This is followed by a short paragraph on Carina.

***CARINA ARCARD'S STORY UPDATED!***

**{Carina, despite being a falconer, comes from a long line of scholars, the Arcards. According to Carina, her parents are "stern, yet fair", but hold high expectations for her, as well as all of their family members. Like Carina, the Arcard household places high value in obeying established rules and regulations, and will dole out harsh punishments for those who disobey. Laziness is frowned upon by the Arcards.}**

It appears the E-Scroll truly is a vault of knowledge-but I suspect that this is not the information Carina wanted me to glean from it. No, I believe it is what appears at the bottom of the scroll in menacing crimson ink that catches my attention. An autopsy report simply labeled the Fukushi Files, named after the Narrator himself.

**Victim: Mayumi Kichida**

**Time of death: 12:00 am; midnight**

**Location of body: Village square; water fountain**

**Cause of death: A blow to the head, causing blunt force trauma.**

**Other notes: The victim has no records in the Story. She did not die instantaneously upon being struck; she lived for a short amount of time after her attack. However, she was weakened to the point of severely limiting her mobility.**

_Mayumi Kichida_ was her name.

My heart quickens, and I'm not sure why. I'm fairly certain that I have never seen her before, but my stomach churns regardless. Mayumi Kichida, Mayumi Kichida, _Mayumi Kichida_...it sounds vaguely familiar. I shake off the déjà vu tingling the base of my spine and redirect my focus to the situation at hand.

I suddenly feel a need to act, to respond to the call for action. Not just to clear my name or Zachariah's, but to also find justice for the fallen girl. The answer is out there, waiting to be uncovered.

I struggle to shuffle out of the cot. Everything is still dizzying and disorienting, thanks to my horrible headache. Zachariah raises an eyebrow at my vague attempt to get back on my two feet, and offers his hands for assistance. Out of desperation, I accept and heave myself up, wobbling a bit as I regain my balance.

"Art thou certain that thou dost not require rest?" Zachariah insists, but I push past him, sauntering toward the front of the apothecary's. He trails after me like a puppy worried for his master. If he had a tail, it would be wagging expectantly.

"And leave the Elites down by one whole Wise student?" I snort, shooting him an incredulous look. "Forget it, white knight. I'm investigating, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

To my surprise, Zachariah gives me a small grin rather than continue to chastise me. Dipping into a bow, he replies, "I expected no less from you-but at the very least, please allow me to lend my assistance."

I stare up at the eager knight with an incredulous expression my face. Him, help _me_? The very notion is _ridiculous_! Sure, Zachariah might be a good candidate to guard a corpse, but to collect evidence? I have my fair share of doubts.

"I have it handled," I insist, but it seems as though the world is out to fully disprove me today. I try to step around Zachariah, but, having not fully regained my balance, I instead almost trip and clumsily face plant on the floor. The knight raises an eyebrow, but I blurt out, "S-See?!_ Definitely_ have it handled."

"With all due respect, milady, I have to politely disagree!" Zachariah cries, persistent as usual. He lumbers over me like an overprotective father bear. "I worry for thy safety, thy wellness! You are in no shape to be up and about without support!"

"I'm fine, you _dork_!"

"...Certainly, you are. Then I shall presume thee to be today's hero, whilst I follow thee to the ends of the Earth, as thy faithful sidekick." Zachariah declares, continuing to follow me like a loyal dog. _He is indulging my farce_, I realize, _like the goody-goody that he is_. A nice gesture, I'm sure, but it eats away at the precious time we have remaining before the trial. The clock is ticking away.

"Whatever helps you sleep comfortably at night, pretty boy." I grumble, quickly caving in to his insistence. He's lucky I don't feel like arguing with him further. "Just don't hold me back, and we'll get along just famously."

The smile that graces Zachariah's lips threatens to split his face in two. I wonder if it was the right decision to accept him as my fellow investigator. But it's too late to take it back now. Far, far too late.

And so, we walk together into the light; partners in crime, and reluctantly so on my side.

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Fukushi Files No. 1] - States the identity of the victim, as well as the time of death, location of the body, cause of death, and other relevant notes.**

**[Laws of Storytelling] - Lists the rules and regulations associated with the Story. All Characters must obey these; please refer to your E-Scroll for the laws in detail.**

**[Carina's Clause] - The Elite Falconer advised that no one leave their guild rooms after night time, around 10:00 pm and before 7:00 am. As it stands now, the victim, Estelle, and Zachariah are known to have violated this clause.**

* * *

Ricard nearly flattens me once I come into his periphery. Ellanora, on the other hand, approaches meekly, following the hunter's lead. I steel myself for another session of being belittled and treated like a child. Anything to move the investigation along, at this point.

"Estelle!" Ricard sputters, latching onto both of my shoulders and almost crushing my tiny frame, "We were all worried sick when Zach told us how he found you! You could have had a concussion, or worse. Thank _goodness_ you're alright!"

"W-Well...Estelle had a pretty good chance of survival to begin with...about 98.74%, to be exact. N-None of her vital organs w-were damaged, and at the most, she h-had a mild head injury. Nothing t-t-too major." Ellanora offers a weak smile, but skittishly avoids eye contact. "You s-should make a full recovery...so long as you don't p-push yourself too hard."

She steals a glance at Zachariah and her tiny grin stabilizes a bit. "I-It was nice of M-Mister Garmont to s-save you like that. He c-carried you over himself and b-bandaged your head..." Ellanora's voice trails off as she continues to gaze at the knight in admiration, obviously starstruck.

"Uh, that's...great...now, could you kindly get off of me?" I request addressing Ricard, which causes the hunter to quickly back off with a nervous laugh and apology. Even if hunting is a mismatch for his class, there is no denying that his personality isn't. In fact, he's _too_ nice for his own good. "Anyway, I'm fit to join in the investigation. Have we got anything incriminating yet?"

"Eh? Are you really going to be okay with investigating...?" Ricard inquires, furrowing his brow in concern. "You stumbled across a corpse already, and you didn't react so pleasantly to it. Plus, with your wound, it might be easier to relax and not think too hard. It would strain your bra-"

"The lady has already given you her word, Sir Ricard," Zachariah cuts in tactfully (and actually on my side for once), "and I assure you that should any danger befall her, I shall be present to assist. 'Tis but all in a day's work!" It takes all of my strength to not gag at the cheesiness of Zachariah's lines, despite his noble intentions.

"Oh. I guess that's fine then." Ricard easily yields to his knightly companion. He steps aside to allow us to stumble through the sea of shattered glass. The Kind student waves around at the disheveled shop interior. "Here, look around if you want. Er, and careful not to cut yourself on anything."

"I know, I know." I nod to Ricard and proceed forward to survey the wreckage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ellanora anxiously shuffling in place, wringing her hands together. She nibbles at her lower lip, and refuses to meet Zachariah's gaze. Her face is flushed a little pink, like the hue of a cherry blossom. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she longs to be in my position-but that can't possibly be. Prolonged periods chained to Zachariah give me symptoms akin to nausea-why would she want to willingly put herself through that?

As I pass the statistician, our eyes briefly meet. In that moment, a flash of emotion-sadness, or perhaps jealousy-strike across Ellanora's soft features. I am both spontaneously confused and curious.

It occurs to me that my fellow Elite is possibly infatuated with Zachariah. A terrible thought, to be sure, but not my current issue. _Anyone fool enough to fall for a knight's mindless wiles is not fit to be Wise_, I note to myself. _I must focus on solving this murder mystery._

Redirecting my eyes to my surroundings, I keep alert for anything out of the ordinary. Granted, the entirety of the ruined apothecary's is unusual, so I don't need to put forth too much effort into it. I kneel down to get a closer look at the various shards littering the ground. Dried patches of magenta taint the clarity of the glass pieces, giving off the aroma of iron. _Ah-hah!_

"Blood," I whisper, a hand hovering over a coin sized splotch. "Something happened here; something _bad_." My stomach lurches as ghoulish images fly around in my wild imagination. I do my best to close my mind off from them and look to the other Elites for their opinions.

"It definitely looks like someone might have been injured here. Or maybe a struggle happened." Ricard suggests, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to seeing it...pink blood, I mean. It's just so weird."

"Mayhap be the dark magic of the Great Witch, cast to disillusion us from the truth!" Zachariah points out, giving us the most outlandish explanation possible. "She has an indirect hold over the entirety of this land, does she not?"

"Look, the color of the blood doesn't matter! It's a bodily fluid all the same!" I cry, standing back up with a huff, "It doesn't look like anyone was stabbed with glass, otherwise there would be blood on the tips of the pieces and not on top. They also look a little too small to be brandished as weapons. This is definitely an important clue."

"Y-Yeah, I suppose..." Ellanora mumbles absentmindedly, staring at her feet rather than the evidence. She must be extremely squeamish or something; the statistician squirms in place, and ultimately ducks behind Zachariah to avoid seeing blood. I imagine that just hearing me say it so many times also made her queasy.

"Hm." I give the apothecary another cursory look before pursing my lips. It is a challenge to glean anything else since there are herbs and all sorts of concoctions heaped everywhere. A formal inventory can't be taken, as we have no numbers to compare to prior to the destruction.

The strong, acrid scent of medicine is only intensifying my headache. I'm done here-lest I faint again and have Zachariah dub me unfit to continue. I instinctively wobble towards the exit, saying over my shoulder, "I'm going to investigate elsewhere. Please let me know if anything new comes up here."

Ricard happily complies with a nod, but Ellanora visibly pales and starts sweating profusely. "A-Already?! B-But...B-But the killer is still out there somewhere...! W-We should stay in a larger group to protect ourselves! S-S-Splitting up is a terrible idea! It ends badly in the h-horror movies 99.69% of the time!"

"W-Whoa! Don't say things like that, Maria! You're starting to scare me, too!" Ricard hisses, his spirits suddenly dropping. Fear seizes the hunter's torso, squeezing the life out of him.

"S-Sorry!" Ellanora squeaks, shrinking into a meek blob of human flesh. "I-I-I didn't mean to! Oh, you must hate me f-for riling you u-up!"

"N-No, I-" But Ricard is almost immediately interrupted with a loud wail.

"I'm awful! Simply _a-awful_!" Ellanora sobs, her eyes rapidly tearing up. I know her self esteem isn't exactly the best, but dear lord, she's as unstable as a nuclear reaction. Luckily, who should swoop in to save the day but your friendly neighborhood knight? "I-I really shouldn't be giving my p-pathetic two cents on a-anything!"

"Lady Maria," Zachariah says gently, easing her in with the utmost of care, "Sir Ricard is perfectly qualified to keep the two of you safe from harm. Stay indoors and at his side, and the two of you will be just fine."

"...Really?" As if by magic, Ellanora's tears dry up. Now it's my turn to be bewildered. What manner of madness is this?

"Really."

"W-Well...i-if you say s-so..." Ellanora offers a weak smile, but is instantly reassured knowing that Zachariah is the one giving her advice. I wonder if he has this effect on other girls, or if it is just her. Still, I am grateful that this opens up an escape route for me.

"Good, then it's settled." I mutter under my breath, throwing open the exit with a flourish. I don't need to look behind me to know that Zachariah follows, or that Ellanora stares after us wistfully. And Ricard...well, he does his own Ricard-y thing, I suppose.

If this were a romance novel of some sort, this would likely be the rough start to a crappy love triangle. But this isn't a romantic comedy of any sort-it's a fairy tale life of mutual killing, and it must be treated as such. There's no time for frivolous fancies!

Honestly, why I bother to put up with these Elites in the first place is beyond me.

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Mess in the Apothecary's] - A few days ago, the apothecary's was as neat as it could be (albeit a bit dusty). It is now in a state of disarray, with many of its jarred and bottled ingredients thrown onto the floor. It looks as though a struggle occurred here.**

**[Bloodied Glass Shards] - Shattered glass bottles discovered in the apothecary's. They have blood stains on them. There is no blood around the edges, only on the topmost surfaces.**

* * *

I know immediately where to head next-and apparently, so do a majority of the other students. Village square is packed with bustling Elites rushing in and out of shops and shouting at one another. _Cooperating,_ I realize as I draw closer, _they're cooperating in this investigation._ Less work for me to do.

Glancing over at the water fountain, I see Carina floating over the still fresh corpse, contemplating. On either side of her are bodyguards, no doubt making sure no alterations are made to to the crime scene. Cado looks a bit rattled, while Johanna appears impatient as the falconer goes about her business. I gather that I won't accomplish much by fighting with Carina for dominance, so I decide to investigate elsewhere until she is finished.

I pause before the bakery and peer inside through its huge display case window. Inside, Priscilla and Mana are rifling around behind the counter. From their straight expressions, I can only assume that they have found no meaningful evidence. I turn to Zachariah and gesture for us to move on-but it's too late.

"Lady Mana! Lady Priscilla! Salutations!"

There he goes, already sticking his head in through the door frame and bellowing a greeting to his fellow Courageous Elites. _Great, another time waster._ I internally groan and attempt to make an escape, only to be grasped by Zachariah and dragged into the bakery.

"Well lookee what we have here." Mana snickers, back to her usual snarky self. She leans over the front counter, resting her chin on a balled hand. "If it isn't Charming and Bubbles. Finally come to pitch in, huh?" She stares at me in particular, probably because of my forehead injury, and gives a low whistle. "Yeesh, someone really did a number on yah, didn't they?"

I blush furiously, but refuse to admit to Mana that I was responsible for hurting myself. It's embarrassing enough with everyone fretting over me because of my wound. I don't _need_ any more shame!

"Tsk tsk, Bubbles, tsk tsk." Mana sighs, pointedly wagging an index finger in front of me. "First rule of self defense; always be prepared for anything and everything. Expect the unexpected, if you will!" She throws me a sarcastic wink. "And that goes for everyone, not just you."

"...I'm not even going to respond to that." I state, turning my head away from the mercenary. So _haughty_! So _condescending_! To think that this girl has a weak side to her...why, it seems like a mere figment of my imagination!

"Lady Mana may have a point there," Zachariah pipes up, startling me. "It would do everyone some good to learn basic self defense techniques to prevent...more murders...in the future. I, myself, would happily volunteer as an instructor."

"And make legions of desperate girls' romantic fantasies come true." I grumble to myself, but the knight seems deaf to my words. He continues to ramble on about various marital arts, swordplay rules, and wrestling moves, each sounding more complicated than the last. What the hell is a Samoan Spike, and how does he expect normal civilians to pull one off?

Are knights even supposed to be trained in this sort of crap, or is it just him wanting to go above and beyond his regular duties? Whatever the reason, it's still stupid. Mana, on the other hand, finds this hilarious, and does a poor job of concealing her laughter. I can only venture that she actually understands the nonsense that Zachariah is spewing.

"Oh, hush up, Zachie! Let the poor dear recuperate! Last thing she needs is more stress!" Priscilla cries, joining in on the conversation to shut the knight up, "I wish I could give y'all some comfort food to fill ya up, but I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment..."

"No, that's okay." I raise an eyebrow. Perhaps Zachariah really did somehow pick up on the scent of evidence. "But does that mean you've found something?"

"Nope! Absolutely nothin'!" Priscilla chirps, not a bit bothered by my flabbergasted, gaping expression. She appears completely undisturbed by the discovery of a corpse, and unaffected by the urgency to act on it.

"Zip. Nada. Zilch. Z-e-r-o." Mana mutters, reiterating the baker's response. She forms a circular shape with her free hand and gazes at me through it.

"I mean, Mana and I have been havin' no plum luck all day. Already checked the butcher's and now the bakery," Priscilla shakes her head, "and still nothin'."

I want to bash my head against the wall, but manage to contain myself. _Way to go, Zachariah! Good job leading us to a dead end!_

I expect the knight to look guilty, but no. Instead, his gaze is on an open sack behind the bakery counter, by Priscilla's feet. It is filled to the brim (leaving me to assume it is new) with a powdery white substance, some of it spilling out onto the floor. I recognize it perfectly well-it's just flour, nothing unusual for a bakery.

"Was that thy doing?" Zachariah inquires, gesturing to the opened sack.

"Hm? Oh, heavens no!" Priscilla insists, waving a plump hand dismissively. "Baked my heart out the first day here, just to cozy on up to everyone. But I've been spending my time cleaning this place up after Lancie and Stellie's recent play date."

My heart sinks remembering the failed barley bread and "fun time" with the unpleasant ventriloquist. Even worse is that Priscilla has officially dubbed it a "play date", like some overzealous mother. Mana chuckles a little at the phrase, but Zachariah remains surprisingly stoic.

"I see...interesting."

"I guess there's no need for me to be here then! Carry on," I interject, veering around to exit. My face must be burning red from embarrassment. "I'm off."

"Mm, as am I." Zachariah adds absentmindedly, still fixated on the flour sack. I roll my eyes and have to nearly drag the lug out myself.

"What, so soon?" Mana calls after us jokingly, only to get slightly muffled by the shutting of the bakery door. "Hmph, guess I'll see you guys at the trial, then." Then, presumably addressing Priscilla, "Where to next, Mom?"

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!"**

**[Flour Sack] - An sack of flour found at the baker's. Priscilla has not been baking recently, but the sack looks freshly opened. Some of it is spilling out onto the floor.**

* * *

The next shop is the candlestick maker's-and while its state is not nearly as bad as the apothecary's, it certainly my does stand out. For one, the front door is swung wide open, semi-detached from its hinges, and the knob looks busted. A large wooden plank lies nearby, sad and forlorn.

How suspicious.

At once, I enter the establishment, coming across two kneeling figures, Endi and Nissa, indoors. My nose wrinkles at the vaguely smoky scent of the establishment. The illusionist is the first to notice me, bouncing up and thrusting her hands out in a warm greeting. There is a long piece of almost translucent string hanging in an intricate pattern from Nissa's fingertips.

"Heya, look, look!" The illusionist beams proudly, bringing her hands closer to my face, "It's a cat's cradle! Isn't it such a neat trick?"

"Uh, sure," I mutter, taking a step back to regain some personal space, "You should be focusing on the investigation, though, not playing around."

"Aw!" Nissa pouts, puffing out her cheeks childishly. "But thinking about it is just so...so sad! Nissa would rather think happy thoughts!" And with that, she twirls around and poses dramatically, winking to a nonexistent camera lens.

"You're...not helping much." I sigh, resisting the powerful urge to face palm.

"Stay strong, milady,"' Zachariah whispers, only to earn a withering gaze from me. Him and his _emotional support_ bullshit...He's not helping much, either!

"Nuh-uh!" Nissa cries, disagreeing with me. "I've been doin' plenty! Cuz this string, y'know...it's evidence!" She pauses before happily adding, "Oooh, sounds scary, huh? We need some dark and brooding atmospheric lighting and that dun dun DUN music!"

_That_ catches my attention.

"Evidence?" I repeat slowly, cocking an eyebrow at the illusionist. "How so?"

"Yes, please do tell!" Zachariah chimes in, echoing my sentiments. His eyes shine with undiluted eagerness.

"Hm...I dunno!" Nissa exclaims cheerily, content with her ignorance. "Endi said it might be important! Nissa just went along with what he said!" I heave a massive sigh. Leave it to these two to allow one of them to play around with evidence.

At the mention of his name, the Elite Craftsman stands back up, brushing himself off of dust. "Well, it's just a hypothesis at this point." He admits, bring a hand to his chin. "It's a very unique material, being the color-er, or lack thereof-that it is."

Endi must be referring to the translucence of the string, I realize. I stare at the Kind student expectantly, prompting him to continue, which he does.

"I had to stop Nissa from rushing into the building too quickly. I noticed the string set up by the doorway of the candlestick maker's, so she could've tripped if she wasn't careful." Endi clarifies, while the illusionist keeps fooling around with her new found toy. "I removed it so it'd be safer, but she just took the string and...um, you know." The craftsman shrugs casually before returning to his investigation.

"Such foul trickery! The killer must have set up this trap to ensnare their victim, and then gone in to attack!" Zachariah declares, immediately jumping to conclusions again. If he paid more attention to his surroundings, he would be able to tell that unlike the apothecary's, the candlestick maker's doesn't look like it's been throw a hurricane. No conflict occurred here.

"And then, and then! With a flash of rainbows and sparkles arrives the squadron of justice!" Nissa squeals, hopping up and down excitedly, "They banish the evil and darkness with love and light! Tee hee, that's us! We're gonna solve this case, no problem!"

Says the one who has _no clue_ what we're doing...

"But of course, Lady Nissa! We shall shed the light of justice upon this darkened village!"

"Yeah, yeah! Ooh, but we'll need cool costumes! And a fluffy mascot! And long, overly complex catchphrases to shout before our transformation sequences! Maybe something like, _Pretty Cutie Rainbow Crystal Moon Power, Makeup_!"

"Verily!" Zachariah belts out a line punctuated by hearty laughter. I cringe, wondering if he is actually taking her seriously.

I try to ignore the irritating, idiotic chorus in the background and glance around Endi to see what he is observing. It seems to be a massive collection of burnt out white candles. Strange-they had been full ones a few days ago.

"They're used," I note, bringing up the obvious.

"Definitely," Endi agrees, holding one up into the light for closer inspection. He sniffs the candle, frowns, and puts it down. What an unconventional way to get information-although I suppose it makes sense for a craftsman. His senses must be quite sharp. "Hm, with this size and material, I'd say these were burned last night."

_The night of the murder..._

This mystery is just getting curiouser and _curiouser._

"That's about it for this place." Endi says, concluding his report. "There's not much else here but used candles-and whoever burned these used quite a lot of them. I apologize for not being able to help more."

"No, no, you've been plenty helpful!" I insist, bringing a gentle smile to the craftsman's face. "W-We were able to get a lot of evidence from this place, so..."

"Oh, that's great! I'll keep looking around to see what I can find, then. I don't suspect there to be much more, but that won't stop me from trying."

"Sounds good." With a hasty glance out the front windows, I can see that Carina has vanished, leaving the corpse with Cado and Johanna. Perfect timing. "I'm going to..." I hesitate, swallowing the lump in throat before finishing my thought, "...to look at the body now."

"Hey, you gonna be okay with that?" Nissa squeaks, suddenly cutting off her plans to become a magical girl with Zachariah in order to address me, "Um...d-dead bodies bring b-bad luck!"

"Yes." I reply tersely, looking her right in the eyes. "It doesn't hurt to have two people check the body-and I don't see anyone else stepping up to do it."

"Do be careful," Endi suggests, following Nissa up on her sentiments. "You've already sustained an injury from discovering the body." Zachariah purses his lips, but says nothing, knowing that he'll get an earful from me if he takes Endi and Nissa's side.

"I can handle a lot more than this." I lie, if only to silence their sympathy. As if I haven't had enough of it today.

I must see the corpse again, this time in broad daylight. I _have_ to see it, see _her._ Mayumi Kichida, Mayumi Kichida, _Mayumi Kichida_...the name that lies on the tip of my tongue, wrapped in an unknown identity.

_Who are you?_

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Damaged Door] - The door to the candlestick maker's. Sports a broken door knob, and hangs loosely on its hinges.**

**[Large Wooden Plank] - A large wooden plank found by the entrance to the candlestick maker's. Oddly out of place for where it is.**

**[String] - A piece of colorless string apparently tied up at the entrance of the candlestick maker's. Set to trip anyone entering or exiting if they aren't looking carefully.**

**[Used Candles] - A big cluster of candles, all burnt up and used. They appear to be of a uniform material and size.**

* * *

_No._

Even seeing her up close in the daytime doesn't do anything for my memory. Her oriental features are as foreign to me as ever, and I cannot dredge anything up aside from her name. _Mayumi Kichida..._

The one new thing I glean from the scene is a weapon lying by the corpse. From the wide blade and thick handle, it appears to be a meat cleaver, likely swiped from the butcher's. A coat of blood paints the rusty metal blade. Perhaps it was or wasn't there when I first found the body, or I had been too distressed to notice it before.

But it's the girl I'm fixed on.

She knows me, but I don't know her.

How is that possible? _How...?_

"Oi! You done starin' at it?" Johanna demands, hands on her hips. She looks pretty pissed for having stood in one place for a few hours, guarding the corpse. On the other hand, her partner, Cado, looks rather indifferent, instead staring off into the distance. He must be deep in thought about something.

"Y-Yeah." I grumble, tearing my eyes away from the dead body. At this point, the blood coating her head has dried, and she has lost all warmth. If I look at Mayumi for too long, I might faint again and be banned from completing the investigation. Zachariah has even gone to the trouble of positioning himself directly behind me in case I topple over.

I have learned nothing new from choosing to expose myself to her corpse again. The Fukushi Files already summarized a majority of what we know about the victim. I step back to distance myself from Mayumi.

"...Waste of life, if you ask me." Johanna spits, gritting her teeth together. "What kind of fuckin' bastard would do this sick shit? Her skull looks like it was bashed in pretty hard-not a wimpy beating like the one you took, blondie."

"Lady Johanna," Zachariah warns in a stern voice, "do stay on track. Respect the lost life of the deceased."

I wince, expecting the boxer to lunge at Zachariah, or at the very least try to get a hit in, but instead Johanna glances away, quiet. I guess no matter how much of a hot head she can be, she does have some capacity to be polite. Cado takes this opportunity to speak up.

"The weapon..."

"Does it matter?" I demand of the blacksmith. The victim died from blunt force trauma..._didn't she?_

"He's been goin' on and on about that damn meat cleaver for forever now!" Johanna growls, annoyed with her fellow bodyguard. "Won't shut the hell up about it until he's heard out!"

"...The handle." Cado points out slowly, pointing to the part in question. He tunes out Johanna's groans with invisible earplugs. "Marks..."

Looking at the cleaver a second time, I notice what Cado is alluding to. The handle, while worn and clearly having seen better times, has noticeable punctures, scratches, and indents in it. I frown-it smells like a red herring. Any real criminal trying to hide his crime would steal the murder weapon away-and surely a cleaver can't deal enough force to knock a girl down.

"Ignore them. They're not important," I instruct Cado, who hangs his head and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He glances off to the side, discouraged, reverting back into silence.

"See? What'd I tell ya?" Johanna grunts, folding her muscular arms over her chest.

"...Sorry." Cado apologizes, downtrodden. His efforts to lend assistance amounted to nothing.

"Art thou sure? The weapon may very well be vital to this investigation," Zachariah inquires as I quickly turn my back, "We may observe the body for longer if milady wishes for additional clues-"

"Stop," I reply stubbornly, "I don't want to look at her any longer than I have to." My stomach does a somersault and a back flip, starting to go nauseous from the presence of a corpse before me. I try to focus on other things.

_If I were a murderer, where's the first place I would go after I finished killing my victim?_ I'd need to wash the blood off of myself. And I guess I could use the village water fountain, but it doesn't look like the water has been tainted in any way here. So that leaves...

An idea suddenly surfaces in my head.

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Meat Cleaver] - A weapon found near the victim's body. The blade is bloodied, and the handle has strange markings on it.**

**[Water Fountain] - The water fountain in the village square. It is clean and untainted with blood.**

* * *

We find Michael seated on the steps to the grand bath house, lazily reclining and soaking up sunshine._ Figures._ I wasn't expecting him to be helping out, anyway. The bandit opens one eye in a semi-greeting at the sound of our approach and offers a mischievous grin.

"Yo. 'Sup?" He asks, grinning from ear to ear.

"You know what's _'sup_, Michael." I sigh, massaging my temples. "And you're doing a fine job of not doing anything about it, you lazy bum."

"Hey, I already did my fair share of investigating." The bandit shrugs, his smile smug. I don't buy it for a single second. "You're just slow compared to me."

"Beg pardon?!" I hiss, narrowing my icy blue eyes at Michael, who doesn't seem fazed at all. It is the reaction he was expecting. He has a good, hearty laugh at my anger.

"Sir Michael, I would advise against taunting." Zachariah suggests, looking down on the Wise student's immaturity.

"Calm down, yeesh! I was just messin' with ya...no need to take everything so seriously." Michael sighs, stretching out his arms and legs. "I s'ppose you two are here to look around? I won't stop ya, but you might wanna wait for a while."

"Why? So you can waste even more of my time?! I've already lost enough as it is dilly dallying!" I snap back, having no tolerance for him. Without heeding Michael's words, I proceed to climb up the steps and through the open entrance. Zachariah, of course, trails after me.

I immediately regret my decision.

We walk in on a red head in nothing but a towel around his...crotch area.

"Uh...hi?" Jaxon says awkwardly, to which I respond with an eloquent scream, slapping both hands over my eyes to shield myself. From behind me, I hear Zachariah's frantic footsteps coming to a halt, and Michael's uncontrollable howls of laughter.

In hindsight, I should have announced myself before entering. On the other hand, were in the middle of an investigation. Who the_ hell_ is bathing at a time like this, when there is a vital investigation to be done?!

"Oh. 'Tis only Sir Jaxon of Caldwell, milady. Nothing to fear." Zachariah reassures me cheerily with a slap on the back. "You had me worrying for a second! I believed you to have been assaulted with a-"

"S-S-SHUDDAP AND MAKE IT GO AWAY!" I sputter clumsily, my entire face flushing bright scarlet.

"Wow, I'm an _it_ now?" Jaxon jokes, trying to lighten up the mood, "Man, that hurts..."

"P-PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" I command the wayfarer, but without vision to aid me, I have no idea whether he follows my instructions or not. "HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!"

"You want me to bathe in my clothes? Now that's just _weird_!" Jaxon counters, "I always wash super early in the morning so I don't need to fight with anyone over the bath house. And with this body discovery announcement an all, I have even less competition for bath time." _That's _his top priority?! _What a joke!_

"H-How can we be sure you aren't the murderer t-trying to clean yourself of blood?!" I blurt out, still flustered.

"Look, you can check my clothes all you want." Jaxon insists. There is a pause, followed by rustling around, and a light thump as what I presume to be a pile of clothes lands by my feet. "There's not a drop of blood on there. I'm innocent. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to get squeaky clean. See ya."

Even when his footsteps vanish, I refuse to lower my hands from my eyes. Zachariah takes it upon himself to report on the state of Jaxon' clothes. "There are indeed no blood stains, milady."

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE UP FOR THE MENTAL SCARRING!" I retort, collapsing into a ball on the bath house floor.

"I don't get it." Zachariah shrugs. Never in my life have I wanted to kicks someone so hard in the no-no square.

"OF COURSE YOU DON'T, FOOL! YOU AREN'T **ME**! I'M **NEVER** GOING TO LIVE THIS DOWN!"

"Er," comes Jaxon's voice from far away, "is it okay if I interrupt your emotional breakdown to mention something?"

"Just...just get it over with!" I choke out, eager to hurry up and leave this forsaken place!

"I think I found some stuff you guys might be interested in. These were by the baths." Jaxon explains, his voice growing louder as he shuffles closer, placing his so-called evidence by my feet. "Uh, I still have only a towel on, so you might wanna wait to look at this stuff."

"Most gracious of you, my comrade!" Zachariah beams, grateful for the assistance. Apparently, he is oblivious enough to be perfectly comfortable exchanging words with almost naked classmates.

"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the little miss doesn't scream again. I don't think my eardrums can take it..." And with that, the wayfarer finally vanishes to cleanse himself.

I don't trust him enough to remove my hands, so they remain before my eyes. Zachariah sighs and proceeds to describe what Jaxon has left for us. "Milady, there is a bucket of soapy water. 'Tis the same color as the victim's pink blood. There is also white cloth and ointment, similar to the materials I used to bandaged your wound. That is all."

A pregnant pause.

Then...

"Can we go now?"

I need to lie down before I die of embarrassment.

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Bloody Bath Water] - Found in a bucket in the bath house. It appears someone rinsed themselves of blood and disposed of it in soapy water.**

**[Bandages and Ointment] - medical supplies found in the bath house. Similar to what Zachariah used to treat Estelle's head injury.**

* * *

Zachariah manages to haul me back to the guild for a period of respite, but I am not granted even that much. When we arrive back, we're greeted with Lance's delightfully whiny voice. He peeks out from behind his guild room, glaring daggers at Thomas, who appears to be trying to coax him out. Frieda stands by the Thomas, fingers plugged into her ears to drown out the ventriloquist. It looks as though our local mailman is losing the quarrel.

"Come on, Lance...if we're going to solve this mystery, we need everyone's help!" Thomas begs, attempting to pry open the door with his bare hands. Lance stubbornly stays put, digging his heels into the ground. "Please come out!"

"Why_ should_ I?!" Lance spits venomously, "It's much safer in here than out there where all you bozos could be _concealing weapons_ and waiting to _stab_ me!"

"I told you, we won't do that!" Thomas reassures him desperately, "We just need you for current investigation! It would really help to have all the students on board! _Pretty please_ with whipped cream and cherries and chopped nuts on top?"

"I _hate_ cherries!" Mustachio Pete snorts, butting heads with the Loyal courier. Is that honestly the best counterargument he has at the moment? "And I ain't lend in' one MEASLY finger! So get lost, ya loser!"

"Quite right!" Lance nods, agreeing with his puppet. "I'd much rather be _doubtful_ than _dead,_ thank you very much!"

"B-But...the trial..."

"I have no need to do any dirty work! With my giant brain, I can solve the mystery just like _that_!" Lance emphasizes his claim with a snap. "Good day to you, lowly mail carrier. I shall see you at the trial." With that, the midget seizes the door and slams it shut, cutting himself out from the outside world.

Thomas manages to move his fingers away in time to avoid getting smashed against the door frame. He lets out a deep sigh before turning to Frieda. The courier looks depressed and much less chipper than usual. "Well, I tried..."

"Couldn't you have been more _subtle_ about it?" Frieda groans, finally removing her fingers from her ears. "That was quite a racket."

"Oh! S-Sorry...I guess I got a little irritated there." Thomas frowns, clasping his hands together. "I guess Lance won't be helping us after all."

"Very well then. Who needs him?" Frieda's dark eyes migrate over to Zachariah and I, still lingering nearby. They glint with mystery, sending chills down my spine. "We have _them._"

"Shall I attempt to be cordial with Sir Lance?" Zachariah abruptly pipes up, eager to help. A resounding "_**NO**_!" from Frieda, Thomas, and I immediately shushes the knight up. I could have sworn that even Lance joined in on the shouting from within his guild room. "As you wish."

"Er," he glances away, directing his attention toward the entrance of the guild. Has he finally chosen to succumb to humiliation? "I shall be over there if my services are needed." The knight excuses himself and hurries off to lounge around in said area.

What could possibly be so interesting there? I do seem to recall there being traces of a strange powder there when I went to my midnight stroll but...Unfortunately, I don't have long to muse over this matter.

"My, _my_, Estelle. I certainly wasn't expecting you to recover so quickly from your injury. You're much more hardy than your appearance suggests." Frieda comments, her gaze trained on me. "Of course, being as _fickle_ as you are, I'd wager that you've spent the entire day investigating rather than sleeping like a good little girl."

I freeze up. Every word that leaves her mouth is so painfully accurate that it actually _hurts_, like arrows piercing my flesh. No, make that arrows dipped in _poison._

"Am I wrong?" Frieda challenges quietly, holding back a chuckle.

She's right. I just don't want to _admit_ to it.

"Wow, that takes a lot of dedication!" Thomas gasps, breaking the tense atmosphere. "I applaud you, Estelle! You're a real go-getter! I gotta work ten times harder to one-up you!"

"Uh, you don't need to do that." I insist, awkwardly backing up. "I'm feeling a big worn out, actually." Frieda continues to gaze at me silently, her sinister eyes pulsating slowly. As though black holes, they pull me closer and closer. It takes all of my strength to rip myself away.

My eyes wander from the composer and to the bulletin board behind her. It's the only other thing I can really focus on at the moment. As usual, it is full of tacked up papers, although at this point, they are all blank (probably to accommodate to Monoryuu's new rules).

_Wait..._

There is a suspiciously empty spot on the board, perhaps enough space for a single missing paper. That's _odd_. Why would there be such a-

"**EUREKA!** That's it!" Zachariah declares, getting a rise out of Frieda, Thomas, and I. The knight turns to us, displaying an ecstatic expression. His hazel eyes are lit with a new found passion, like a phoenix reborn and rising from the ashes. "I can _already_ see the Ending to this case!"

"_...What?_"

But Zachariah never has a chance to properly clarify, for a familiar voice interrupts him from above. It's still as shrill as ever, and about twenty times louder than normal, but it is unmistakably an announcement from Monoryuu. _Oh no._ _Please_ don't let it be what I _think_ it is...

"Hey, hey, _hey_! Guess what time it is, everyone?! " Not even half a second passes before the dragon answers his own rhetorical question. "_Thaaaaaat's right_! The first trial is about to be underway, so all you Characters _better_ assemble in village square! Participation is MANDATORY! Hopefully you louts managed to throw something together from your_ lousy_ investigation...

"...Cuz if you don't guess the killer correctly, you _all get axed_ and the_ killer_ gets to _walk free_! Guess correctly, and the _killer_ is the one who gets _punished_! Mweeheeheehee! See ya chumps there!"

_I shouldn't have jinxed it._

* * *

***EVIDENCE UPDATED!***

**[Missing Paper] - A single piece of paper seems to be missing from the otherwise crowded Quest Board in the guild. There are currently no Quests available.**

**[Guild Entrance] - Zachariah seems to be fixated on this particular area. The night of the murder, Estelle saw a little powder sprinkled on the entrance mat.**

* * *

"...I _told_ her it was a bad idea. Look what you've gone and done now, Mayumi-chan...Man, oh man...the higher-ups are gonna _lynch_ me for this."

"Mm, despite all that...

"I wonder how things will play out?

"The one with a heart of _gold_, and the one with a heart of_ pyrite_; a strange duo, to be sure...but will they be able to find the one blackened by the Curse? They have such different approaches to the murder...

"Well, I suppose I'll see soon enough."

* * *

**Hey there, Danganronpa fans! =7= Sooooo, how 'bout that investigation, huh? Things are really heating up now...I tried my best to make it unconventional and fun, while still being relatively serious overall. Theories and speculations about the killer or how the murder was carried out are welcome! Suggestions for future omake are also welcome.**

**The serial killer poll is now closed. There is a new poll for the next free time events. You can choose up to three students, in case one of them unfortunately happens to be the blackened for the first trial...Like I said before, the personality of the student and how Estelle views them will determine whether or not they do an activity together or just talk about the past. I'd prefer if you voted for students who haven't spoken of themselves yet or haven't done much with Estelle. Anyone you are curious about works!**

**Alright, time to respond to reviews!**

**Shadowplayer360: Monokuma is definitely a safe guess, but he's not my favorite.**

**PoisonBanana: Haha, I'm not sure if anyone would be willing to animate such a complex sequence...although I do enjoy seeing fan art! ^w^**

**And yes, Mikan is my favorite character. I will be writing your one shot in the next week or so. For anyone interested in reading it, PoisonBanana has requested that I write an AU in which it is Nagito's first day at a daycare where Hajime and Chiaki work. The rest of the SDR2 cast are the children they look after. That should be...interesting...to say the least.**

**Shaggy Rower: Thank you! I'm glad it was so well received.**

**I really like Ishimaru as well! He is probably the character that I most relate to.**

**Spontaneous Extempist: Wow, another long and detailed review! Don't worry, I appreciate your thoughts regardless. It really helps me improve my writing.**

**Yes, this story is going by quickly! Everything happens at a slightly different pace because of the radical setting (and Estelle being Estelle).**

**Ooh, very interesting speculation. I won't spoil anything, since the victim's identity is very important in the long run. Wink, wink, nudge nudge. ;)**

**Haha, don't worry about little old Zachie poo. His backstory is a lot more intricate than that. I suspect it will be revealed in due time how he came to serve his master and why he so blindly does as his master says. Zach's about as noble as they come! Maybe that's why he's so popular...**

**How ironic! Mana's creator actually PM'd me after reading chapter 9 laughing about how it implied a love triangle between Mana, Estelle, and Zach! There is indeed a great irony to Estelle, of all people, calling Mana condescending and haughty. At this rate, Zach isn't going to be the Elite Knight anymore...he's going to be the Elite Unintentional Playboy! Mana is also a pretty popular character right now~**

**The Author (if he/she exists at all) will be one of the issues later addressed, so have no fear! Some have speculated that the Author is the code word for Mastermind, but that seems a bit too obvious, doesn't it?**

**A lot of people have also speculated that Self-Insert is a code word for traitor, but that also seems a little too obvious. I don't blame you guys, since those are pretty major parts of the Danganronpa formula, but I wouldn't be so blatant with those phrases, now would I?**

**If you tread back to ends of earlier chapters, you do hear a little ominous talk from Fukushi, and other such things around the time the owl is introduced. This begs the question though, do you trust Monoryuu, of all people, when he said that Fukushi has secret plans concerning the Protagonist? Who is the Protagonist? What purpose could the Narrator or Familiar have with him/her? :3**

**Kirigiri is a cool character! Sorry, but she's not my favorite.**

**RandomGuyonthestreet13: Really close! Celes is probably in my top five favorites.**

**Special thanks to my editor/creative consultant (you know who you are) for being patient with me, and apologies to Mayumi's creator (you also know who you are)! I needed a hidden "17th student" to be the first killed! I have a perfectly good reason, but that will be revealed later.**

**Than, you for reading, and see you all (hopefully!) next chapter! Action! Drama! Romance (okay, maybe there won't be that)! You don't want to miss the trial!**


	12. Trial by Fire

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Finally, the first trial! Things get pretty tense, so I recommend listening to atmospheric music in separate tabs to help set the mood! Not every single clue will be addressed in this chapter, as this trial will be a two-parter, but have no fear! By the end, you'll understand everything clearly.**

**...Well, most of it anyway. Some bits will be long-term mysteries to be solved during the final chapters of this SYOC. Ah, and keep in mind that there will be some new...colorful moments to the trials, and we will leave it at that. You'll see what it is.**

**On another note, the only real mini games used (and I say "used" in the loosest sense) in OMMM will be Nonstop Debate, Closing Argument, and Rebuttal Showdown. The others don't make much sense for the novelization style I'm going for and would be hard to format on top of that, so hopefully that doesn't bother anyone too much.**

**Anyway, chill and enjoy.**

* * *

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a PRINCE who fell in love with a young VILLAGE GIRL. He began to court the VILLAGER, seeking her hand in MARRIAGE.**_

_**But a local PRIESTESS became JEALOUS of the VILLAGER, and sought to be rid of her. Using the word of their GOD as a ruse, the PRIESTESS convinced the PRINCE that the girl he loved was a WITCH. She did everything in her power to turn him against the VILLAGER.**_

_**"Don't you see? She has cast a SPELL on you. The she-demon is manipulating your feelings. Using you. If you wish to be truly FREED from her influence, you must BURN her at the STAKE."**_

_**The PRINCE, frightened for the future of his KINGDOM, cast the VILLAGER into the GALLOWS and set her EXECUTION date. He ignored her pleads and claims of INNOCENCE. Time passed.**_

_**When the day of destiny arrived, the PRINCE offered to do the deed himself. Torch in hand, he closed in on her. Looking the VILLAGE GIRL in the eyes, he said, "I trusted you, and you betrayed me. Now you will pay for your CRIME."**_

_**But those were also the VILLAGER'S lines.**_

_**Their STORY ends in FLAMES.**_

* * *

The tension in the village square is so thick that even a chainsaw can't make a dent in it. There is a reasonable amount of space between each Elite, giving everyone a chance to size each other up at a safe distance. Even the overly cheery students like Nissa and Zachariah appear more solemn than usual, carefully watching over their fellow Elites as we await the arrival of the dragonic familiar.

On the way over to the meeting site, Zachariah had tried to blab some nonsense to me about his epiphany, but I hadn't paid much attention. Honestly, if he was spacing out so often during the investigation, I can't take his claims seriously. At this point, I'm sure everyone here can agree that it's every man for himself. The on-edge silence can attest to that.

I avoid making eye contact with the knight-or anyone, for that matter. It makes it easier on all of us.

One of us killed Mayumi Kichida, and that is an undeniable truth.

Now comes the time of judgement.

"G-G-Good day, all!" a familiar voice calls out from the sky, drawing out attention upwards.

As if on cue, our Narrator lands atop the head of the central water fountain's statue. Fukushi nervously tugs at his oversized bow tie and adjusts his monocle. If owls could noticeably sweat, he would have sprung a waterfall's worth by now. The Narrator glances down at us Elites, taking in our terrified, confused, and bewildered expressions. Fukushi gives an uneasy smile.

"I do so apologize for this..." he anxiously murmurs, struggling to maintain his composure, "I...I did my very best to help with the autopsy report, but...it was so last minute! I honestly didn't think things would escalate to this point. T-To think that everything went downhill so quickly..."

"Awww, cheer up, cheer up!" Nissa suggests, twirling her so-called magic baton in the air. Although she musters as much enthusiasm as she can into her voice, her eyes have a tattletale melancholy hue to them. "It's not your fault, so give us a grin!"

"Yeah," Michael snorts, rolling his eyes with a sarcastic snicker, "it's definitely not his fault that he's just _predisposed_ to being weak and _sucking_ at his narrating job." The bandit gets glares from nearby classmates, but he just shrugs them off.

Fukushi takes Michael's comment hard, visibly drooping. Then, very abruptly, the owl snaps and cries out, "Oh, I _despise_ how powerless I to defy the new rules! But one cannot defy the laws governing the Story-they are absolute! If only I could do more to help you children through this ordeal! That wicked Monoryuu just isn't playing fair! Why, if I had enough strength to rid us of this Curse, then I'd-"

"Oi, oi, oi!" Johanna growls, causing everyone around her to jump back in alarm. The boxer steps forward, the veins on her prominent muscles bulging. "I'd _can_ it if I were you! What's done is done, so that bellyachin' of yours ain't gonna help us solve this shit any quicker!"

"Er...that's her unique way of saying not to worry so much about us." Ricard clarifies, speaking up to translate Johanna's gruff words for her. "You've done all you could, Fukushi-and for that, we are all grateful." A general murmur of agreement circulates among the Elites, bringing the owl a bit more reassurance.

"Well..." The Narrator frowns, shaking his head at us. "I still wish I could give you more assistance. The influence of the Curse is quite frightening, and even more so with the presence of that terrible dragon. I'm happy that you children have at the very least cooperated on the investigation.

"In dark times like this, we must look out for one another!" Fukushi insists, glancing in my direction as he speaks. From the way his eyes turn down in concern, I suppose he has already taken note of my bandaged forehead. You know that you've accumulated far too much sympathy when even talking owls are gaping in public.

Fukushi smiles again with a bit more oomph this time. No one dares to point out the existence of a murderer among us. Such would destroy our fragile peace and set us spiraling into chaos before the trial.

Scratch that, I mean _almost_ no one.

"Are you losers _daft_?!" Lance spits, shattering the silence with a sour expression, "One of you is definitely guilty, otherwise we wouldn't be in this crappy situation! If you actually had some _intelligence_ in those empty skulls of yours, you'd know that!"

Ellanora shrinks away from her classmate, terrified at the prospect of a killer in the group. I can clearly see why she loathes Lance now that I properly know the nasty little fellow. Then again, who _doesn't_ dislike him?

"...Mister Hawthorn is correct." Carina pipes up sternly, seconding the ventriloquist's thoughts. Fukushi lets out a strangled yelp, horrified by her words. "We can pretend all we like, but ultimately, that doesn't change anything. To begin with, we don't even consider each other friends, only mere acquaintances thrust together by circumstance."

"Yes. Miss Kichida's life was put to a premature end by one of us. We only cooperated in the investigation to cover more space in a condensed amount of time." Frieda points out, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "It was a near necessity."

"Nah, those Kind ninnies think everyone is their BFF!" Michael sneers, eyeing the Elites in question. Indeed, the Kind students appear to be huddled closer together than the others, likely for emotional support. Ricard and Nissa don't bother objecting, but Endi makes a face and looks away while Johanna glowers quietly.

"You wanna say that again, geek?" The boxer challenges, cracking her knuckles threateningly. Michael's eyes widen to the size of saucers, and he starts to back away, holding his hands up in an act of surrender. Johanna raises a balled up fist, only to get blocked by a frantic Nissa.

"N-No fighting your friends!" She sputters desperately, waving her arms as though in a rush to hail a taxi cab. "W-We're supposed to do the normal, nice things together! You know, like eat ice cream together and share our hopes and dreams!"

"Hopes and dreams?" Lance repeats in disbelief before his voice spikes up angrily. "What are you,_ brain dead_?! You know what's on the line here-or do those ears of yours not function properly, either? If we guess incorrectly, we're going to end up just like the victim!"

"There's no need to phrase it so harshly, Lance..." Endi sighs, retaining a relatively calm look in the face of conflict. His fingers betray his expression, as he continues to pick at the buttons on his jacket as he speaks.

"It's because you IMBECILES aren't using your heads!" Mustachio Pete yells at an ear-shattering volume. Endi flinches and recoils when Lance shoves his puppet into the craftsman's face for emphasis.

"Can I punch the little shit now?" Johanna offers quietly, her nostrils flaring like those of a bull's. Lance narrows his eyes at the Kind student and mouths, "_Try me_." A bad move on his part, I'd say.

A fist comes hurtling at the tiny ventriloquist, but it doesn't quite manage to hit him in the nose. Oh, and so _close_. Zachariah expertly cuts in mid-way, catching Johanna's punch before any contact is made.

"Stand **down**!" The knight commands, his voice sharp and steely as a sword. His annoying upbeat hazel eyes have significantly darkened along with his tone. "You heard Lady Nissa. Conflict is not welcome prior to a class trial." Off to the side, Mana lets out a low whistle in amazement.

"Yeah? And you're gonna make me stop if I keep it up? You and what army, pretty boy?" Johanna barks, not afraid to back down. Zachariah stiffens. Everyone knows what his answer will be; he will need to resort to violence himself to restrain her.

"As captain of the royal guard, I have led armies into countless battles. Do not force my hand." Zachariah replies, folding his arms across his broad chest. Johanna scoffs at him, perhaps not taking his warning seriously, or just not caring.

"P-Please listen to Mister G-Garmont!" Ellanora squeaks, finally finding the courage to speak up. "W-We already have enough t-trouble as it is..."

"What...she said." Cado adds, agreeing with the statistician. The blacksmith must really feel strongly about that statement, since he rarely ever speaks.

"Look, everyone seriously needs to just chillax!" Jaxon suggests, throwing his arms behind his head in a lazy gesture. "Gettin' all worked up makes you age a whole lot faster."

"Exactly, children! Please, do obey Mister Caldwell!" Fukushi begs, only to be immediately interrupted by Carina.

"He has no right to say anything about our behavior!" The falconer cries, seething from head to toe, "The idiot did nothing to contribute to our investigative efforts!"

"Birdbrain is still salty about it, too." Mana giggles, bringing a hand to her mouth. "All it takes is one hair outta place 'n she loses it." She then turns to Priscilla and asks, "Yo, Mom. Aren't you gonna say somethin' about all of this?"

"Hm?" The baker glances over, apparently having been drifting off the past few minutes. "Oh, sorry, hon. I was lost in my own thoughts for a while there..."

"Huh? 'Bout what, the shade of pink icing on your next batch of cookies?"

"Well, I was thinkin'...why is the dearie dragon having us do this?" Priscilla wonders aloud, abruptly silencing the quarrels nearby. "I mean, I think we were brought here by a Curse of sorts accordin' to Fukushi, and he's tryin' to help us get out. But why does Monoryuu want us to do all this? The killing, the trial, and execution. It's just so bizarre."

"That's...that's a very valid point." I say slowly, surprised that Priscilla is the first to bring the question up. "What is his motive for forcing us into this situation, this fairy tale life of mutual killing?"

"Er, do you know anything, Fukushi?" Thomas inquires, raising an eyebrow, "Cuz Monoryuu's, like, your enemy and all, right? You must know tons of stuff on him."

"The Familiar serves one purpose and one purpose only," our Narrator explains sadly, hanging his head, "and that is the expand the Curse to cover all parts of the world."

A collective "**WHAT**?!" resounds throughout the entire village. For once, the Elites react similarly to something.

"How does this convoluted scheme help him accomplish that in any way?!" Carina demands, spit flying out of her mouth. Gone is her collected demeanor, replaced with fiery rage.

"W-Will my friends and family be h-h-hurt by the Curse too...? Please, no...!" Ellanora sobs, her entire body shaking with dear. The statistician nearly sinks onto her knees, but is supported by a swift, worried looking knight.

"That's terrible!" Endi proclaims, going paler than white bed sheets. He stumbles backwards, struggling to maintain his balance. "W-Why would he..."

"I suspect it doesn't matter at this point." Frieda interjects, her lips pursed into a tight line. The composer raises her line of sight to the brilliant blue sky. "Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive."

"Heeeeeeey, guess who's back?!"

_...Crap._

* * *

"Yay! Yippee! Yahoo! Looks like everyone is present and accounted for! That means we can get this show on the road _ASAP_!" Light Monoryuu exclaims giddily, hovering over us like a five year old evil overlord. "Aren't you guys _SO_ excited?! I know _I_ am!"

_Yeah, but no one cares what **you **think, you lunatic..._

"W-Wait just a second!" Carina shouts, her eyes narrowing into slivers, "I have some questions for yo-" But she is completely ignored by the familiar, who addresses Fukushi instead.

"Move over, Foofy! There's a _new_ goddamn sheriff in town!" Dark Monoryuu orders, smacking the owl off of his water fountain roost with a scaled tail. Fukushi lets out a squawk and crashes down (luckily landing safely in Zachariah's arms). _Geez, that knight is saving everyone today..._

"Did you hear me?!" Carina demands shrilly, her voice revving up. From her shoulder, Icarus tenses, preparing to attack if commanded. The falconer only earns a lax, half-lidded expression from Monoryuu.

"Yeah, I did...but you know what? I just don't care..." The dragon admits in a bland tone, coloring Carina's face with irritation. "What's really important...is the trial...I'm not here for anything else but that..."

"And _how_ exactly do you presume us to undertake such a task?" Carina hisses, not taking getting snubbed very well. Her gaze is dagger-like and vicious. "There are about a million unanswered questions floating around in addition to the ones pertaining to this murder. No one is going to be willing to participate in this silly game of yours without more clarifica-"

"Ah...you're so boring. Just shuddap and let the fun part happen, will ya?" Monoryuu yawns, planting his reptilian heinie on top of the water fountain's statue. He grins down at us with dead, lifeless eyes; the eyes of a mad man. Or is it a mad _dragon_?

"Alright, that is **IT**!" Carina cries, putting her foot down. She is finally at her wit's end. Icarus waits for the order to take off and go for Monoryuu's throat. "I have done my best to remain cordial despite all of your meaningless drivel! If you don't start talking, I will have no choice but to-_GAH_!"

The Loyal student's threat is abruptly cut off when the ground underneath us begins to violently shake. A chorus of screams and helps ripples through the atmosphere. Some Elites fall onto the ground, others cling to nearby classmates or buildings for support. Monoryuu cackles excessively, taking much delight in our terror.

"A-An earthquake?!" Fukushi sputters, whipping his head to his monochrome counterpart. "You...you cease this childishness at once! You could harm the Characters!"

"Haha, lol, _nope_!" Light Monoryuu laughs, throwing a carefree raspberry at the Narrator. "Serves'em right for being curious little brats!"

"W-What the hell is going on here?!" I shriek, collapsing into a ball on the cobblestone laden path. "E-Eep!"

"Need you even ask?" Monoryuu smirks, as though the events unfolding before us are obvious and to be expected. "I'm summoning the Court Grounds, of course! You don't expect us to have a trial without a proper setting, do ya?"

As if to elaborate on the familiar's response, the ground directly below me gives way before launching me up onto a raised platform. Various other Elites let out similar screams as they, too, are shot into the air on thick chunks of land. We're honestly not elevated that far off from the ground-perhaps seven or eight feet at most-but it manages to jump scare us nevertheless.

The water fountain in the middle of village square has been uprooted along with us, its central statue now veiled in a cloak of light. When this is finally cast off by a gust of wind, the water fountain is no more. It has been replaced with a giant, gaudy throne and a black cauldron, green goo and disgusting mulch-y substances boiling in it.

Just when we think it's over, it isn't. In a flash of white, golden beams shoot up from the edges of our platforms, reaching up towards the sky. They meet at a single point above our heads, dulling away to form the bars of a gilded cage, containing each of us within. Even Fukushi isn't left out; he gets magically locked up and planted directly next to the throne, which Monoryuu happily plops himself into. To add insult to injury, showy flowers begin to crawl up the bars of our cages, accentuating the beauty of such a surreal experience.

The sixteen of us Elites stand in a circle, staring at each other and slowly processing the rapid turn of events. Below, Halkyonia seems more deserted than ever, with wind whistling in our ears. Monoryuu has a good laugh at our gaping, flabbergasted expressions.

"You should see the **LOOKS** on your faces! So fucking _pathetic_!" The dragon screeches, absolutely dying from amusement. "What, black cat got your tongues? You kiddies ain't never seen crap like this before?!"

With a trembling hand, I reach out, grabbing onto the bars of my golden cage. It feels firm and cool against my fingers, and too real to be true.

What just happened...? _Magic_, that's what. Legitimate magic, conjuring something from _nothing_. My heart sinks. Under normal circumstances, I would be ecstatic to learn of the existence of magic, but all this does is confirm how screwed we are. If we so much as look at Monoryuu the wrong way, he has the power to instantly end us.

"H-Hey, you let us out this _INSTANT_!" Fukushi demands angrily, defiantly tackling his confines. "I will not tolerate this...this blasphemy!"

"Since when was giving a dead girl justice considered blasphemy?!" Dark Monoryuu challenges, sending a nasty glare Fukushi's way. "One of your precious wittle Characters killed her, so we gotta do things the old fashioned way to make sure her spirit's in resting in piss! Or peace! Or some dumb shit along those lines, I dunno!"

"You wicked monster! Foul beast! Vile vermin!" Our Narrator spits bitterly, his grandfatherly persona now distant and hateful. "Fine! If you won't free us, then I'll nag you until your ears bleed!"

My face falls. Is that really the best threat Fukushi can come up with? Well, there definitely is a clear power difference between the two of them, but still! That's the lamest counter argument I've heard anyone use.

"...Another word out of you and I'll blow your Characters' brains out." Monoryuu says, his face neutral-but his beady little eyes seethe with concealed rage. My stomach lurches. Something tells me we don't want to cross the familiar, and Fukushi shutting up confirms just how dangerous Monoryuu is.

"Good, good!" The dragon beams widely, displaying all of his sharp pearly whites. With a twirl in his seat, Monoryuu announces, "Mweeheehee...welcome to the fabled Court Grounds, where all souls shall face judgement before facing freedom...or the _GALLOWS_!" Then familiar belts out another line of mad laughter before continuing his melodramatic talk.

"Friends! Foes! We gather here today for the trial of Mayumi Kichida's murderer!" As he speaks, plumes of smoke emerge from his cauldron, projecting a ghostly image of the victim before us, a pink X over her face.

"The rules are simple as fuck, so you better remember them! Talk to each other and share your evidence or whatever to locate the killer! At the end of the trial, everyone has to vote for who the hell they think went 'n done it!

"If the majority of you guessed correctly...the Cursed gets executed...but if you guessed incorrectly, well...then the Cursed gets to walk free, and everyone else perishes..."

_Cursed_? Must be another code word. The meaning? _Guilty._

"And that's basically it!" Monoryuu concludes, glancing from face to face with an enormous toothy smile. "Remember to have fun and to not worry about the consequences!"

And just like that, we are thrust, confused and unprepared, into our first trial.

Everything rides on this.

Our beginnings...

..._and_ our endings.

* * *

**TRIAL 1: START!**

For the longest time, we stare at each other through the bars of our cages, Zachariah directly across from me, Jaxon to the left of me (just my luck) and Ricard to my right. Everything is too fast, too sudden, so no one knows quite how to react. Fortunately for us, Carina, once again, takes charge.

"First thing's first," the falconer heaves a massive sigh, massaging both of her temples to drive away an oncoming migraine, "what were you people doing outside, anyway? Was it not obvious that you were endangering yourself by doing so?"

"Oooh, such a bitter start!" Monoryuu squeals, behaving like an overly involved sports fan watching two star players quarrel. The dragon brushes his claws against his cheeks and lets out a girlish squee.

"Ah, Birdbrain's still stuck on that!" Mana groans, slapping her forehead in a dramatic, exaggerated motion. "Yeesh, you're saltier than a salt mine! You know it's not an official rule, right? No one is enforcing it."

"I'm only harping because that's exactly _why_ all of this happened!" Carina counters icily, directing her evil eye at Zachariah and I. She deserves a pat on the back for restraining herself from outright accusing us. "If everyone had stayed indoors, none of this would have been able to transpire! That's why you should have listened to me!"

"Er, well, looking on the bright side, at least none of us ended up dead, right...?" Thomas points out anxiously, only to get berated by Johanna.

"_Dumbass_! That doesn't make it any better!" The boxer roars, her hands balled up into fists. They would look happier on someone's face than at Johanna's sides. "Someone still fuckin' died!"

"The poor girl..." Frieda murmurs softly, her dark orbs pulsating as they flicker around. "Mayumi Kichida, was it?"

"Um, may I ask a question?" Ricard asks, raising a hand slightly, as though in a classroom. Carina groans, but indulges him.

"Yes?"

"Uh, who is she? Mayumi, I mean. I'm pretty sure that no one here knows her, since there were only sixteen of us to begin with. All we know about her is her name. We're not even sure if she's formally afflicted with Camelot or counts as an Elite, which is the one thing we all have in common. She was wearing a golden Camelot uniform, but our class cap shouldn't exceed sixteen. Why would anyone kill a stranger?"

"Because someone obviously wants to get out! It doesn't matter who is killed, so long as someone can cover it up and get away with it!" Lance barks, sneering at the hunter. "That much is clear. What are you, stupid?"

"It was bad luck on Mayumi's part for walking in on such a dire situation." Endi mumbles, his gaze wandering from the trial itself to admire the ornate flowers entangling his cage. Leave it to the craftsman to admire the trap he is caught in.

"Oh! Nissa wonders why the killer went after Mayumi, then!" The illusionist pipes up, raising her baton in the air. "There are lots of Elites to pick, like crayon colors out of a box! Why target her, of all people?"

"U-U-Um!" Ellanora stammers, raising her voice to be overheard, "T-There is a high probability that she was u-unaware of the Story and its rules...She didn't know all this...Curses and Characters n-nonsense, or th-that there was a killing game going o-on...so she didn't think she'd be in d-danger. She was probably l-like us at the start...just w-wandering around, lost...a-and looking for civilization."

"Oooooh, now I get it!" Jaxon laughs in a carefree way, slapping his knees. "So the killer went after Mayumi because she didn't know anything about what was going on! That makes sense! It'd be a whole lot easier to attack an unaware person than an alert one!"

My head jolts up as the wayfarer concludes his statement. I know for a fact that's not true. What she had told me on the night of her death implied a completely different thing! But they're moving on quickly, quickly, quickly. If I don't speak up now, I'll never be heard-so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind.

"**You've got that wrong!**" I exclaim, my voice harsh and frantic due to its sudden nature. As the rash phrase escapes from my mouth, I feel a warmth wash over me-and then another weird thing happens. I see letters materialize before me, forming my sentence. They merge together and warp, shaping into a bright red wyvern.

I gasp and back up, only to see the dragon ignore me and instead surge toward Jaxon. The wayfarer lets out a loud yelp, but the moment the wyvern collides with Jaxon's golden cage, it disintegrates into nothingness. Blood red light rains down on us.

"Wh...What was that?!" Michael gapes, ogling Jaxon as though he were a chunk of alien technology. "Everyone saw that...right?! It wasn't just me?"

"A dragon...Estelle's words became a dragon..." Cado mumbles to himself, his typically lax gaze gone. "How...?"

"I...I must be going mad!" Zachariah concludes, furiously raking his hands through his hair. "Surely this cannot be!"

"Oh, but it is!" Light Monoryuu giggles, very much enjoying the disarray that is our confusion. "Those cages serve two purposes, my dear nincompoops! They make sure you stay in, and keep those creatures out!"

"More of your goddamn Manifestations?!" Johanna guesses, more pissed off than ever. Her face seems to suggest that she longs to rip out of her confines and beat the stuffing out of Monoryuu, but she thinks better of it and stays put.

"Yeah...just to add some more spice to the trial...I like seeing your terrified faces...it keeps little ol' me entertained in this big, boring world..." Monoryuu casually confesses, a demented grin planted on his smug face. Beside the familiar, Fukushi pales, but stays silent.

"In this sacred space, all your strongest thoughts and feelings...they multiply and multiply and multiply...and if your conviction is powerful enough, you summon your own inner demons to the trial...You stay locked in there, and let your words take form and duke it out...because here, words are your _literal_ weapons to strike others down...This is the Story, after all...what is said and written will impact everything! Isn't that just...wonderful?"

"That sounds quite frightening, actually." Priscilla hums to herself, her cheery expression betraying her words. "I guess we need to be careful about what we say and how we handle our emotions here. How interesting."

"Interesting, my mother fuckin' _ass_!" Johanna roars, her grip on her prison bars tightening. "You sick basta-whoa!" The boxer stops mid-sentence and glances down at her feet. A pair of ghostly hands have emerged from the ground and latched onto her legs, try to pull her down.

Johanna screams. Loudly. Very, very loudly.

"Careful, careful! Get too outta control and your own Manifestation will turn on you!" Monoryuu warns, wagging a claw at the Kind student. "Anyway, don't let such a minor thing distract ya from the trial! Carry on!"

"How does he expect us to just casually go back to what we were doing before now that we know that?" Jaxon grumbles under his breath. He scratches the back of his head as he tries to recall our conversation. "Er, I guess I was sayin' something about how Mayumi didn't know about the Story, so she would be a vulnerable target. Then Estelle cut in."

"Did you have something to add to his statement?" Frieda inquires, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I do!" I reply with a huff, tired of the composer subtly belittling me. "What he says is incorrect. Mayumi _did_ know about the Story and its rules."

"And how would you know?" Lance snorts, quick to dismiss my argument. "Look at the Fukushi Files. The victim has no records in the Story. If she didn't officially exist in the Story itself, how would she know about how it operates?"

"She told me herself. On the night of the murder, I found Mayumi. She hadn't died yet, so I tried to help-but all she told me was to save myself from those that don't belong in the Story, and something about a Self Insert. I don't know about you, but that certainly makes it sound like she definitely knows what she's talking about!"

"That sounds pretty convenient for you to find her on the verge of death...and she just happened to regurgitate that vital intell to you?" Mana asks, narrowing her emerald eyes in suspicion.

"It's possible!" Nissa explains to the mercenary, "Very possible! Cuz the autopsy says Mayumi lived for a short while after being attacked!"

"But why would she blab to a stranger, then?"

"I...I'm not exactly sure why, but Mayumi seemed to recognize me, even though I don't know her. She...she trusted me in her final moments, so the least I can do is bring her dying words up." I sputter, stumbling over my own sentences.

"Alright, I'll buy your story." Lance pipes up to my surprise. I give him a dubious look. Why would he suddenly decide to put his faith in me, given how distrustful he has been in the past?

The ventriloquist turns to Monoryuu. "You there. When did you make the body discovery announcement?"

"Who, me?" The familiar asks, playing innocent before responding with, "Well, this particular time, it was in place of the morning announcement at 7:00 am. It was after the knight over there stumbled across the golden girl. That happened a few minutes earlier, I think."

"I see." Lance whips his head toward Zachariah. The short violet boy's lips are in an unreadable, yet serious expression. "And you, human meat shield. You reportedly found the blondie passed out by the corpse, yes? And then you reported to the rest of us?"

"It is as you say, Sir Lance." Zachariah replies, not offended at all by the ventriloquist's rather offensive nickname for him. "I was on my morning patrol of Halkyonia."

"_Great_!" Lance suddenly bursts out into an uncharacteristic grin. He then quickly sinks back into a smug smirk, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. An eerie purple aura, the makings of a Manifestation, surrounds him. "I _do_ believe we've found our murderer."

"What?!"

_Me...?_

* * *

"It's clear, isn't it?" Lance snickers, putting forth all of his efforts into driving his point home. "Estelle admits to being the first to find the body. The victim had some sort of connection to her, even if she denies it herself. Our resident meat shield acknowledges that he found Estelle near the corpse. She probably had blood on her at the time, but it was washed off so her injury could be tended to. In fact, Estelle likely arranged all of this to make herself look weak and innocent.

"The body discovery announcement was made after the dumb oaf found Estelle, a little before 7:00 am. If he were the killer, he wouldn't have had time to hide evidence or clean up blood when Monoryuu made his announcement at 7. You buffoons were already out investigating by then and surely would have spotted the meat shield if he were up to something shady. Therefore, we must conclude that Estelle is the killer."

"Guilty, guilty, _guilty_!" Mustachio Pete sings, blaring in a shrill tone in my ears. I feel like tearing his idiotic mustache out and using it for a bonfire.

Lance, the dirty little _weasel_! That's what he was up to all along?! Building up his case to accuse _me_, a fellow Wise student?!

"You must be _joking_!" I seethe, gritting my teeth at the irritating brat. So much for Priscilla's friendship lesson and bonding over horribly made barley bread. I feel myself pulsating with red rage. "If I were guilty, why would I bring up that I found Mayumi's body in the first place?!"

"You're throwing us off of your scent. It happens all the time in mystery novels." Lance replies coolly, sticking his nose in the air. What gives him the right to act all high and mighty?! He hadn't moved an _inch_ out of his guild room! "There, case closed. You're welcome. Can I leave now?"

"No. Thou shalt remain until this matter is formally settled." Zachariah orders, frowning at the small child. "Such accusations are not meant to be taken lightly, Sir Lance."

"What does it matter, so long as I'm right?!" Lance whines, puffing up his cheeks in anger. For all his talk of not being a child, he certainly does behave like one. Maybe even younger than a child. An infant, perhaps.

"I don't think it is as simple as you make it out to be, Mister Hawthorn." Carina points out, freezing Lance in his tracks. Icarus straightens on his master's shoulder, proud of Carina for sassing the Wise boy.

"You're questioning _my_ logic?" The ventriloquist sneers, clearly not thinking very highly of a bird tamer.

"While I do concede that Estelle is very suspicious at the moment, it's far too early to be jumping to conclusions." Carina explains sharply. "We must first discuss the other details of how this crime was carried out before we vote anyone up. After all, our lives are on the line."

"Pfft, whatever. Do whatever you want!" Lance groans, glaring at the other Elites. "You're just denying the inevitable-and wasting more of my time while you're at it!"

"Er...Now that that's settled, how do we go about this?" Endi asks, speaking up for the rest of the students. "There are so many components to the murder, it's hard to keep track of everything."

"What about...the murder weapon?" Cado suggests, and is immediately cut off by Thomas.

"Oh, that's right! The meat cleaver, yeah?"

"Th-That makes sense as a weapon...it's s-small enough for even some like E-Estelle to use to her a-advantage..." Ellanora notes, fumbling with her fingers to avoid my livid gaze.

"I'm telling you that I'm innocent! Stop treating me like a criminal when you hardly have any evidence against me!"

"We'll be the judges of that," Frieda insists, a hand covering what is sure to be an amused smile. This is just high entertainment for her. "Back to the cleaver. If I remember correctly, its blade is stained in blood, so it very well could have been used to end Mayumi's life. I suppose that Halkyonia doesn't have finger print or blood analysis technology, so we much make the assumption that the blood on the cleaver belongs to the victim."

"Hold on a sec, I reckon I need some time to piece this together." Priscilla pauses, mulling over this new information. "So what y'all are sayin' is that someone went through the trouble of stealin' a butcher's knife to use as a weapon. The killer struck the victim with that there cleaver, and that killed her?"

"**No, that's wrong!**" I interrupt, sending another flare of magic up. Again, it harmlessly fazes through our cages. "The Fukushi Files state that she died from blunt force trauma, and sustained no other noticeable wounds!"

"What is the reason for the cleaver's presence, then?" Zachariah wonders, a hand to his chin. "Did the heinous killer go to the trouble of planting a red herring?"

"I dunno. It still sounds sort of fishy to me..." Michael mutters, chewing the inside of his lip. "So what was the real weapon then? What did her in? There wasn't anything else super incriminating at the crime scene."

How exactly was her life out to an end? If it wasn't a stab or a puncture, she was hit with something with enough _force_ to damage her and draw blood. Of the places I can currently think of with bloodstains, only _one_ makes sense...

**_I've got it!_**

"The weapon that actually killed Mayumi was also at the location where we discovered her body. But it wasn't small or mobile like the meat cleaver." I clarify, earning wide eyed looks from the Elites. "It was, in fact, the water fountain she was leaning against."

"What brings you to that conclusion?" Ricard inquires, his eyes brows cinched together in bewilderment.

"There isn't that much blood anywhere else in the village. Most of it is either on the victim or nearby. And with no other plausible weapons, one must go with the near impossible.

"The water fountain makes the most sense. Mayumi's head was bashed into the stone ledge, causing her to start bleeding. She was unable to move much following her attack, so she was forced to stay there, next to the weapon that forced her into the situation in the first pla-"

"**Hold it!**" Frieda interjects, cutting me off. Oh no. I don't like the dark expression on her face. "How are you so sure that the murder occurred in the village square and not elsewhere? After all, traces of blood were found at the apothecary's as well, along with that big mess."

"Would you let me finish my argument first?"

"Certainly. But not until you have disproven mine!"

"Fine, I'll play your silly game!" _Grrr,_ don't test my patience like this, Frieda!

"Let us begin." The composer suggests. With that, a line of silver swords materialize, dancing before her. "I propose that the true scene of the crime is the apothecary's! There, the killer cornered the victim and a struggle occurred. That's why the apothecary's was in such a wreck!" As Frieda speaks, her glittering weapons launch themselves at me, smashing against my cage and rattling its bars.

"There would be more blood around if someone had died in the apothecary's! That much is clear if you compare the amount of blood at the two sites!" I counter, crimson blades whistling past me in a rebuttal.

"True, but who's to say that the killer couldn't have manipulated the blood at the apothecary's? There are plenty of medicinal supplies and spare rags around for dressing wounds. One could easily cover up the real scene of the crime and transport the body elsewhere."

"You think Mayumi was moved?"

"Well, she couldn't have done it herself. She would have been too injured crawl herself anywhere. The killer, on the other hand, was able to come and go as he pleased. He planted the cleaver to throw us off track, so why not also move the corpse's location?"

"Could the killer really have done that? Moving a human body from one place to another and making false evidence would take a decent amount of time and effort."

"Anything is possible under the veil of night. With no witnesses around, the killer has free reign to get away with anything at his own leisurely pace."

**_...A weak point!_**

"**You've got that wrong!**" I cry, a scarlet sword racing past my head and slicing Frieda's line of weapons. "The Fukushi Files say that Mayumi lived for a short amount of time after her attack. When I found her in the village square, she was still alive, but only for a few minutes. The killer wouldn't have had _time_ to transport the body all the way from the apothecary's-and even if they did, they wouldn't have been able to clean up any blood left behind!"

"Alright, if we choose to believe your claims, then how do you explain the state of the apothecary's?" Frieda challenges, waving away the last of the glittering particles of her Manifested swords. "If no struggle occurred there, why the mess?"

"Y-Y-Yeah!" Ellanora chimes in, quaking in her shoes. "M-Mister Bell and I were present when you w-were investigating. W-We saw drops of blood on some of the s-shattered jars."

"I can confirm what Maria said," Ricard offers, nodding his head in agreement. All eyes turn to me, waiting for a response.

The reason for the chaos and blood at the apothecary's, even though _no_ quarrel happened there...but what if a fight happened _elsewhere_? If the victim was virtually immobile from the attack, then the only way for the mess to exist would be...ah-_hah_!

"**I've got it!** A struggle did happen, but not at the apothecary's. It was in the village square, where the blood was the most abundant. Since the victim couldn't move much after being struck, the killer was the one who left for the apothecary's! He must have gotten injured in their quarrel and needed to treat himself.

"The killer must have either panicked in the wake of what he had done, or in a rush, which is why there's such a mess. No one here knows the apothecary's layout well enough to instantly locate what they need, given that we all arrived only a few days ago."

Frieda smiles. Quietly. Eerily. It's the sort of expression that a cat wears when it has finally caught its prey; _now I've got you_. I don't think anything of it-the composer has a habit of creeping me out on a regular basis anyway. It's just Frieda being Frieda...right?

"Got it! So the killer has an injury now and is trying to conceal it!" Jaxon cries, leaping into action. "Everyone, _strip_!"

"No. Just...no." Priscilla responds immediately, her motherly grin turning dark and sinister. An army of pink knives manifest by her head, and the baker doesn't even bat an eye. She looks about ready to whack Jaxon over the head with a rolling pin and roast him for dinner.

"Why not? You heard Estelle! It's the fastest way to find our murderer!"

"You have a death wish or somethin', buddy?!" Johanna seethes, giving the wayfarer a frosty glare. "You lookin' to die today?!"

"Uh, let's not do that!" Ricard interjects before a fight breaks out in court. "Obviously, we can't just ask everyone to take their clothes off. That'd be plain embarrassing..."

"He's right," I agree with a nod, "there are smarter and more decent ways to locate injuries. Of course, it'd be a lot easier if we knew that the killer had a wound somewhere hard to cover up, but we don't. We're just going to have to deduce our way out of this mess."

"Wait, what if the injury was on the forehead? That's easy to spot. But then aren't you just pointing to yourself as the culprit again...?" Thomas points out, looking very confused. "You're saying the killer is currently wounded, right? And you have one on your head, Estelle."

"So...Blondie killed the victim, then she went to get medical supplies and get fake evidence. Then she returned to the scene of the crime to act all innocent?" Michael reiterates, his gaze passing from Elite to Elite for validation.

"I think you left out a part there, Mikey." Jaxon cuts in casually, "She must've gone to the bath house to get rid of the blood on herself. Cuz there were medicinal supplies and a bucket of soapy, bloody water there when I went to bathe earlier today. Guess the little miss didn't clean off her trial as well as she cleaned herself off, huh?"

"...Too much information." Cado groans, heaving a sigh. His lost breath sews itself together into a boring gray rock and comedically falls to the ground once it processes the laws of gravity. "Don't want to visualize that..."

"Ehehehe, sorry there, buddy. I guess I did get a little carried away with the details there."

"That sounds 'bout right to me!" Johanna agrees, bringing a fist to an open hand. "Everythin' else lines up, too!"

"I didn't think she had it in her to kill." Mana mutters, shaking her head in disappointment. "But I can't really argue when the evidence is starin' right at me."

"E-Etooo! Nissa can hardly believe it either." The illusionist squeaks, clutching onto her magical staff particularly hard. Her knuckles go white. "I don't wanna go around pointing fingers at friends, but..."

At this, Lance sneers and tosses me a sideways glance. "_See?_ What did I tell you? This was a complete and utter waste of my time. The fool has cornered herself."

"Bye-o-nara! Ya went and dug your own grave!" Mustachio Pete taunts, cackling maniacally. Lance is lucky these cages are keeping us apart, or else I'd already have taken that annoying puppet of his and dropped it into an oven.

"Bubbles sure is shady, huh?"

"Estelle's the killer? No way..."

"Blondie's pretty guilty lookin' right about now."

"I hate to admit it, but the little asshole is right..."

"Mm, I had my doubts about her before, but now is a different story."

The ventriloquist's words have truly hit home with the other students. _Uh-oh._ I visibly pale, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. That wasn't the piece of information I wanted them to glean from my argument!

"W-Wait a second! Listen to me! I'm...I'm _innocent_!" I spit out in vain. Lance's idea has finally consolidated in their minds. The Elites' suspicious gazes hone in on me. Watching. Judging. Ignoring my protests. Entrapping me.

I'm suddenly dizzy, like I'm in the middle of a nightmare that I can't wake up from. The ground below me may as well be a vortex, because I feel like I'm being pulled down with the force of a thousand tons of gravity. My heart palpitates ever faster.

If I back, they won't hear me out, not even the Kind or Loyal ones at this point. Yes, they'll certainly feel guilty about condemning me, but it won't change their decision regardless. I'm doomed.

"Oh? What's this?" Monoryuu wonders aloud, straightening up in his throne with a wicked grin. "Have you fine lil' shitlets arrived at an answer? Can we finally get to the slaughterin', or what?"

Lance opens his mouth to deliver a "_yes_", but nearly falls flat on his face when he is interrupted. I guess he wasn't expecting that. None of us are, really-not even me.

But he raises his voice anyway.

The white knight.

Am I honestly expecting anyone else?

* * *

"**Halt!** I object; I object on behalf of milady!" Zachariah booms, his voice resounding in the skies. Monoryuu lets out a disappointed moan before sinking back into his seat.

"I'm gonna_ nap_! Wake me the hell up when it's killin' time!" The dragon grunts, flopping over onto his side. Only a few seconds elapse before very loud, prominent snoring erupts from Monoryuu's form.

"H-He_ actually_ fell asleep!? And so quickly?!" Fukushi gapes from his confines, staring down at his counterpart. I suppose he wonders how someone so derpy could overpower him, the Narrator.

"Ignore those two." Carina sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She seems quite fed up with this game. "Mister Garmont, might I ask what exactly it is that you are objecting to?"

"Why, Sir Lance's statement, of course! 'Tis most objectionable!" Zachariah replies bluntly, to which the ventriloquist face palms. My heart sinks. This is the worst possible defense I can get.

"Mister Garmont, please take this seriously." Carina advises in an irritated tone. Upon her shoulder, Icarus stomps in place, putting on another display of annoyance. "Speak up if you legitimately find an incorrect point in an argument, not if you personally choose not to believe in an accusation. Do not allow your own bias to cloud your judgement."

"You misunderstand me!" Zachariah insists, thrusting a finger in Carina's direction. A cobalt glow emits from his general vicinity. "I hold in my possession proof of milady's innocence!"

"You _do_?" Lance remarks questionably, arching an eyebrow. He gives an airy laugh like a snooty aristocrat. "This should be good. Let's hear it, then."

"'Tis simple! Milady's injury 'twas not dressed until after the body discovery announcement, when she was out cold! She had no reason to travel to the apothecary's, nor time to plant falsified evidence! Ergo, milady is not the killer!"

Words fly out of Zachariah's mouth so fast that I can hardly process them. Navy blue images blur by, bullets against our golden confines. Still, one thing is clear: somehow, he's actually managing to pull off a semi-coherent defense. It takes all of my effort to now let my jaw hit the floor. Sad as it is, I make a mental note to thank the insane knight later-well, if we survive past that, I mean.

"Oh, that's right! Zach bandaged Estelle's wound himself and made sure she was resting." Ricard speaks up, recalling the incident.

"H-Hmph! Don't get so cocky, meat shield!" Lance snorts, shooting the knight a wicked glare. "You're _clearly_ siding with her as an accomplice! That's it, isn't it?! You've been working together all along!" (Upon hearing those words, Ellanora flinches and shrinks back, even though they aren't directed at her.)

"Nope!" Monoryuu squeaks, scaring the living daylights out of us by suddenly snap wide awake from his nap. His single crimson eye gleams excitedly at us. "Only one person can be the Cursed; the true killer! Accomplices don't benefit at all from scheming with someone else!"

"W-What?! You must be _joking_! Tell me you're joking!" Lance sputters, spit flying out of his mouth. Monoryuu snubs the ventriloquist and returns to sleeping. Lance completely deflates, looking defeated, but not anything less than livid. Her arrogant violet aura dies down with him.

"S-S-So Estelle isn't the killer a-after all...?" Ellanora guesses, stating the obvious. A mutter of consent passes through the Elites.

"That's what I was trying to _tell_ you all along!" I mumble, heaving a sigh of relief. At last, my name has been cleared!

"I was wrong?" Lance repeats, narrowing his eyes angrily. "_Impossible!_ You have to be the killer, you just _have_ to be!"

"Well, I suppose that's just what happens when you don't participate in the investigation and make nothing but assumptions instead." Thomas points out, shrugging. "Your loss, Lance. You weren't quite prepared for this trial, huh?" The ventriloquist turns redder than a tomato, letting out a muted, hissing sound at Thomas.

"Putting _that_ aside, are we seriously back to square one?" Mana groans, placing her hands on her hips. "If the murder weapon or whatever was the water fountain itself, any ol' idiot can bash someone's head there and kill them."

"A whole lot of good that did for us!" Johanna growls, her eyebrows knitted together in anger.

"Um, Nissa is confused now!" The optimistic illusionist announces, bouncing up and down on one foot. "Where do we go from here?"

"I worry it may take too much time to interrogate each of us individually to sort out alibis and the like," Frieda brings up, a hand cupped over her mouth, "so it may be in our best interests to discuss other pieces of evidence and see how they connect to the already established ones."

"**I agree with that!**" Zachariah calls out boldly. He tries to seize this opportunity to mention a topic of his choice, but is interjected by Endi before he can do so.

"I think the candlestick maker's is definitely involved in this murder somehow," the craftsman argues softly, his eyes shining with a hidden determination.

"What, are you gonna claim that that's where the crime _actually_ happened?" Michael challenges, grimacing sat the mention of a new location. As though we didn't already have enough to mentally juggle!

"I don't think so. There wasn't any blood in the shop, but the set up in there certainly looked suspicious." Endi explains, naming off oddities on his fingers. "The broken door, the wooden plank, the see-through string, all those candles..."

"Wha~ It's so mysterious! What does it all mean?!" Nissa inquires, not putting forth much effort to answer the questions herself. A parade of highlighter yellow stars fizz around her. The illusionist's Manifestations seem upbeat and cheery, just like her.

"Uh, excuse me..." Cado mutters, grabbing everyone's attention. The blacksmith holds up his E-Scroll, pointing to one of the Laws of Storytelling. "How is...the door broken? Here, the rules say..."

**2\. Night time is from 10 pm to 7 am. Some areas and buildings will be inaccessible to Characters at night.**

**5\. Destroying property and breaking into locked facilities is frowned upon, and will also result in punishment.**

"Oh my." Priscilla gasps, testing her cheek in her plump hands. "Maybe the candlestick maker's isn't locked at night? The rules don't specify what is or isn't inaccessible."

"Let's ask the bloody familiar!" Johanna suggests. Veering her head to the throne in the center of the court room, the boxer bellows, "OI! MONORYUU! WAKE THE _HELL_ UP!"

"W-Wuzzat?!" The dragon yelps, jolting up in his seat. A line of drool dribbles down his chin as he rises from his slumber. Looking quite irritated, Monoryuu snaps, "Alright, alright! I'm up, ya good-for-nothing runts! Is it time for me to execute someone yet?!"

"Not quite." Carina replies, stepping in to delegate. "We wish to know which institutions are and aren't closed to us at night."

"Eh, is that it?" Monoryuu sighs, leaning back in his throne and kicking his feet up. A bland expression overtakes his face. "As of right now...the apothecary's, the bath house, and the main entrance of the guild are open at night...nothing else...all other buildings and private guild rooms are automatically locked up at 10:00 pm...when a Character closes a door..."

"What? But that's impossible. The candlestick maker's door is busted...someone totally broke in!" Jaxon points out, eyes wide. "Y'know, cuz otherwise they'd be punished!"

"Did Monoryuu just forget to punish the offender? Or maybe he didn't get around to punishing the offender quickly enough." Ricard offers anxiously, putting on a strained smile. "Although I guess we should be glad no one got hurt from breaking a rule."

"I dunno, did I?" Monoryuu giggles, having another laugh at our expense. The tiny monochrome _bastard!_

"Did it really happen that way?" I question aloud, earning stares from the Elites. I can't help but think how strange it is to suggest that Monoryuu, who has displayed crazed bloodlust on multiple occasions, would turn down the opportunity to dole out punishment to anyone. "Let's try to bring the other pieces of evidence at the candlestick maker's into perspective."

"What else is there to really explain?" Michael scoffs, frowning at me. "The candles and string were in the shop to begin with, so nothing unusual there. That's just how candles were made back in the day; dangling string in wax. The wooden plank was probably leftover building material or something."

I internally slap myself in the forehead. Of course, another bare bones argument, coming from someone who didn't contribute to the investigation at all. How useful-_not._

"There...there are so many things wrong with those statements. Where do I even begin?" Endi mumbles to himself, staring blankly at Michael. "Actually, there was a whole hoard of used candles that weren't burnt up when we first arrived."

"Whoa, is there an arsonist in our group? Or someone who just really loves the scent of burning wax?" Thomas wonders, tilting his head back and forth as he ponders.

Our resident craftsman screeches to a halt and does a double take. Endi abruptly gapes at Thomas, displaying an appalled expression. The mailman realizes that he may have made a mistake and begins to apologize in a flustered manner, only to get cut off by Endi.

"No, no, it's fine," the Kind boy insists, waving dismissively in front of him, "you didn't mean to imply anything; you aren't_ aware_ of the candle material..."

"Is there something special about it, dear?" Priscilla inquires, soothing Endi with a warm smile. "It's alright, you can tell us."

"Lard. It's lard. You know," Endi vaguely gestures to the air with his hands, "animal fat."

"Oh, _good_!" Jaxon chuckles, expelling a breath. A cheery shower of magic-induced sparkles rains down. "I thought for sure you are gonna say something super morbid like, the candles are made of us humans or the tears of orphan children! Just like soylent green!"

"What does it matter if the candles were wax or lard?" Carina demands, her lips taped into a straight line. "They serve the same purpose in the end."

"On the contrary, it actually makes quite a_ big_ difference." Endi counters calmly before his expression warps into one of worry. "Lard gives off smoke when burned and wax doesn't."

_That_ explains the smoky scent when I first entered the candlestick maker's. It was reminiscent of the candles' recent use the night prior! Upon this epiphany, the other pieces of evidence slowly start to jumble into place, forming a foggy, yet unified, image.

"Yeah, so what?" Mana mutters, looking disinterested at the prospect of talking about old fashioned household products. Flickering golden stars lazily float by. "I get that they smell funnier, and that's about it."

"So what? So _what_?" Endi echoes, his voice slightly growing agitated. An orange bubble seems to encapsulated him, making the craftsman appear outlandishly tanned. "I'm not sure how many of you are aware of this, but a large group of lard candles like that can deprive a person of oxygen, or at the very least make someone pass out. This is a _serious_ matter!"

"S-S-Someone could have d-died...?" Ellanora repeats shakily, her pupils dilating.

"Oh, oh, oh! Nissa just thought of something really weird!" The illusionist bursts out, jumping into the middle of Endi's clarification. "That string that we found was set up kinda out of place, like a trap to trip someone! Does that have to do with the smoky candles at all?"

"**I agree with that!**" I declare loudly, and with a flash of scarlet light, fireworks explode quietly above my head. "Everything is starting to come together! Someone purposefully chose to use lard candles-and plenty of them-to get enough smoke to build up in order to suffocate another student. They prepared the string, hoping that its transparency and the cover of night would make their victim trip and get locked in.

"Even the wooden plank was a part of this. It must have been used as additional reinforcement to keep their victim trapped."

"Why would anyone want to knock another person out? I mean, it might be a kink or somethin', but I don't know if any of us are into that sort of stuff." Jaxon grumbles, scratching his chin. I shuffle away from him, uncomfortable with his slightly inappropriate gags.

"Less resistance when a desperate Elite wants to kill you off to escape, that's why." Carina whispers, sounding like she has just gotten punched in the stomach. "...Absolutely _despicable_."

"From what I can gather, it seems that a trap was set out, but the victim managed to escape through sheer force or luck..." Frieda notes airily, dusting aside a stray lock of hair.

"Wait, doesn't that imply that the killer knew someone would ignore Carina's rules and be out at night?" Thomas points out, "If they went to all the trouble of preparing that trap, it sounds like a premeditated murder."

"Indeed. It would be rather foolish for one to attempt murder in broad daylight, when witnesses are about." Carina chimes in, frowning at the mention of breaking rules. "They must have gone in at night to set everything up, then hid, waiting for their target to show up."

"**Wait just a moment!**" I exclaim, cutting off the falconer's comment. "There's something odd about what you guys just said. If the killer really went to the trouble of preparing the candlestick maker's, the doors would have automatically locked behind them when they went inside. That student would have been punished for '_trespassing_'!"

"What about the wooden plank, Bubbles?" Mana challenges, "If the door was locked, why use the board to latch it shut from the outside?"

"I...er..." My voice trails off. For the first time since the beginning of this trial, I have no answers. The facts seem to contradict themselves. "I'm actually not sure about that one!"

If the door was locked, there is no need for the plank, and the one setting up the trap would have been punished. On the other hand, it would have been impossible for the door to _not_ have been locked. Once the door is shut by a Character, it autolocks at night time. And if this was a premeditated murder, how did the killer know the victim would be out? No one had known about Mayumi's existence prior to her corpse showing up!

It seems that we've hit a dead end.

"Tch. _Worthless_," Lance spits out, kicking his foot against his cage. It clangs against the ones next to his, setting off a choir of protests. "We're getting nowhere!"

"Mweeheehee, what's this? Looks like you guys are lost, huh?" Monoryuu sneers, giddy at our confusion. "Ya better hurry 'n come up with somethin' 'fore I get bored!"

"U-Um! Ummmm...Nissa doesn't know! Sorry!"

"I'm out of ideas as well."

"Nothing else to report here."

"Hell if I know where to go from here."

"W-Was everything up to this point totally m-meaningless?"

"**Halt everything!**" Zachariah utters, jolting out heads toward him. He is cloaked in a veil of navy sparks. "Fear not, for I have the solution to thy queries!"

"Mister Garmont, this had better be good." Carina warns, waving a finger at the boisterous knight. Icarus bristles, annoyed at Zachariah's loudness. "We're grasping at straws at this point."

"But of course, Lady Carina!" The knight reassures her with a merry laugh. "Our issue is that we have been approaching this situation from the _wrong_ angle this entire time!" At that moment, our jaws collectively drop. _What exactly motivates him to say such a thing?_

"You've gotta be _shitting_ me!" Johanna roars, throwing her arms overhead. "Do we need to start ALL the way over from the beginning AGAIN?!"

"Not necessarily!" Zachariah replies, vigorously shaking his head. "We must simply view our evidence in a _different_ light! Only _then_ can the truth be revealed!"

"Great. And just what is the new angle you propose we look at the case from?" I inquire, choosing to entertain his silly theory. It's not like anyone else has any other leads. Might as well.

"The killer did _not_ go in with the intention of murder. It was, in fact, the _other way around_!" Zachariah announces firmly, "The _victim_, the single person _immune_ to the rules of the Story, the only non-Character, was the one with devious ideas in mind!"

A wild barrage of colors explode in the sky. All the Elites express shock to varying degrees. Of all the hues in a rainbow, only navy is absent and aware of what is going on-or so Zachariah thinks.

_...Oh, how the tables have turned._

* * *

"Well, now.

"Wasn't expectin' _that_, of all things.

"Seems like this has devolved into a total _shit show_.

"...I love it!

"Hehe, carry on, you wanna-be Heroes.

"Avenge Mayumi, but more importantly...

"...Entertain _me_."

* * *

_** ...And the SIN this time is DILIGENCE.**_

_**He tried so hard for the WRONG cause.**_

_**Maybe it would have been better if he had done NOTHING at all.**_

_**If only he had embraced ACEDIA instead.**_

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= 'Eeeey, how about that trial? It was much more dialogue than I am used to handling, especially when you look at how introverted Estelle is! Most of the previous chapters are her (mostly negative and tsundere) inner thoughts about other people. I did my best to incorporate all the characters into the trial and make it a unique, truly magical experience for the masses! ;D**

**Oh, and what does Zachariah, the apparently oblivious knight, have to back up his claim? Could it possibly be right? Is there something that everyone else overlooked this entire time? Will he once again leap into action and save the day? Find out next time on OMMM!**

**Responding to reviews time~:**

**PoisonBanana: Has Zach become the main character of a harem anime?! Yes, Estelle is tsundere as usual (and has apparently become a pervert and stalker?). Hugs, not drugs.**

**Oh yeah. The investigation happened. Ho-hum. Boring, right?**

**Haha, I guess I must've done a good job of hiding him/her then! Any idea as to who it is now?**

**misthallery: Yay! Reading your reviews again!**

**I play Town of Salem myself. Much less diversity than Epic Mafia, but still a ton of fun. They really help out with ideas for murder and then lying about it in court. Perfect lessons for the kids to learn, I'm sure. Yeah, Zach and Estelle seem too obvious. They are carrying out the investigation similarly, but paying attention to different things, y'see. .**

**Oooh, your question will be (or already has been) answered (depending on how deeply you analyze the information presented this chapter)! Aren't I so benevolent?**

**So many Ace Attorney moments were had. Is Zach secretly an Edgeworth in disguise, pulling convenient evidence out of his ass? Or like Phoenix, who always seeks justice and believes in his clients? Maybe he's an amalgamate of both! And Estelle is just the token cute teen girl that follows him around, haha. Ironic, since she's technically the main character and he's Kirigiri's/Chiaki's stand in. You'll see eventually...**

**Good theories! You will see the truth in due time, my friend.**

**The evidence hath been, as thou sayeth, "decked" out! ...I should stop talking like Zach.**

**RandomGuyonthestreet13: The winner of the pseudo-contest has already been announced, no need to guess more (although Ishimaru is pretty awesome). PoisonBanana's requested one shot will be out shortly.**

**The violent, rash ones are always suspected, huh? I don't blame you, I suspected Mondo as a killer right away! Interesting speculation about the weapon, but unfortunately it has been crushed in this chapter...or has it?**

**Dun dun DUUUUUN!**

**...Or am I just bluffing? I dunno.**

**All will be revealed...neeeext chapter!**

**RoboVolcano4: Oh, a review from ya! Excellent, excellent! I'll never stop thanking you enough for saving my heinie when I needed an OC or two to fill in some slots for recycled characters. Thanks again!**

**The first thing I thought of was Mettaton when I read your "OH YES!" I'd like to think I'm updating pretty quickly, too. (Er, to make up for the lack of updates earlier in the year...)**

**You're free to go back and review older chapters if you wish; whatever you feel like is perfectly fine! I'm always happy to hear readers' thoughts on my work!**

**Yes, those two play off each other quite well, don't they? Fukushi is more of an overprotective grandfather, and Monoryuu is just plain insane.**

**With the rate things are going now, looks like Nissa, Jaxon, and Frieda will be our next free timers! They will be followed by Carina, Endi, and Ellanora if we have time. Well, that is if none of them are executed in chapter 13...**

**Alas, a murder has occurred and our poor, honorable protagonist is accused! It looks like Estelle has managed to dodge that bullet (for now), so we're all good! Lance was pretty intent on on executing Estelle thought...no love in that heart of his, tsk tsk.**

**Oh, who do you think it is? Come on, you can tell me! ;)**

**Well, that's it for me! We'll conclude the trial next chapter and have ourselves a grand ol' time with the killer's true motive and an execution!**

**Until then, I'm signing off. See you all (hopefully!) next chapter!**


	13. Ashes to Ashes

_**ONCE UPON A TIME, there was but a poor CHILD on the streets in the dead of winter. He reached out to those passing by and offered to sell them matches. It was all that he knew.**_

_**One fateful night, as he was completing a transaction, his CUSTOMER took the matches and asked, "Do you know what I enjoy the most about FIRES?"**_

_**"No, I don't," replied the CHILD.**_

_**"I love the way they BURN and destroy anything in their path." He strikes a match and holds it up for observation. "It is a quietly refined BEAUTY; sparks flying, flames dancing, light flickering, lives snuffing out. Absolutely STUNNING, if I do say so myself."**_

_**The CUSTOMER grinned, displaying his razor sharp teeth. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will be on my way."**_

_**"I see. Farewell then. Enjoy yourself, sir."**_

_**And they PARTED WAYS.**_

_**...Later that night, the town BURNED.**_

_**It truly was a SIGHT to BEHOLD.**_

* * *

The one who intended to kill became the victim, and the once innocent bystander, the killer...It sounds outrageous, _too_ outrageous-or perhaps_ just_ outrageous enough to be true. With everyone's undivided attention on him, Zachariah takes a sharp breath of air before going on to support his claim. A cobalt blaze burns behind him, all of his passion evident to the naked eye.

"There are no records of Lady Mayumi of Kichida in the Story according to the autopsy report. Therefore, it is safe to assume that she is no Character.

"Both the small feathered one and the vile rapscallion of a dragon have made one thing clear: the Laws of Storytelling need only apply to those marked as Characters! Without the label, one is free to ignore the rules set forth for us, including the locked establishments at night!

"From milady's testimony, we can deduce that Lady Mayumi was aware of the happenings within the Story. As such, she may have very well taken advantage of the fact that she was not bound to the Story's laws to carry out a crime most wicked!

A wave of silence passes over the Elites as we allow this new information to set within our minds. Difficult as it is to say aloud, the knight's points do make sense. A lot more sense, actually, than I would like to admit, for someone who initially seems ultra dense and obnoxious. Slowly, but surely, I speak up.

"But...but if the Laws of Storytelling don't apply to Mayumi, she shouldn't _need_ to hurt anyone to leave," I point out, meeting Zachariah's suddenly stern hazel eyes, "She would just come and go as she pleases. The Curse can't stop a non-Character because it's part of the Story itself. Mayumi has no motive for murder."

"'Tis incorrect!" Zachariah counters fiercely, his words socking the bars of my cage in a navy blur of color. I stumble backwards to retain my balance. "Lady Mayumi knew of the Story ahead of time. To willingly subject herself to the danger of the Story by entering it implies that she had a different objective. She was not looking for escape; she specifically sought to eliminate someone from this cast of Characters!"

"Mayumi...she had a predetermined target?" I repeat carefully. The words settle on my tongue in an odd manner, jumbling about and leaving behind a bad aftertaste. Everything about what Zachariah said seems perfectly plausible, but something from deep within myself objects. I don't remember ever knowing a Mayumi Kichida, but my instincts are shrieking at me that she would never do such a thing-not without a good reason, at least.

"Indeed!" Zachariah nods briskly, "Lady Mayumi knew of the Story and its elements beforehand, including the identities of the Characters. She could watch and plan every move out ahead of time. An outsider is completely capable of premeditated murder, and using her status as a non-Character to achieve it."

I recoil in shock. Zachariah is actually making sense today-has the world gone mad? When did the white knight decide to change his occupation to ace attorney?!

"Why would she be so desperate to be rid of this target of hers?" Frieda wonders, speaking up from her golden perch. "She could have been content living her life on the outside, far away from this Curse and Story nonsense...but instead, she plunged into this insane realm of her own free will, just to do away with someone. I find that very hard to believe."

"Mayumi...she seemed to be well aware of my identity." I mumble, recalling a few of her last words. _Ah...it's...you..._Sad as it may be, I awkwardly find myself adding blocks to Zachariah's theory; that the victim was originally plotting to kill. "If we go with the idea that she knew us long before we knew her, it makes sense.

"Mayumi knows things that we don't. She mentioned that someone currently here doesn't belong and is dangerous; called them a Self Insert. If she truly thinks that this person can bring us more harm than even the Curse can, then she has more than enough motivation to leap out of the pan and into the fire."

"Alright, that's 'bout all I need to hear!" Johanna declares, bringing a foot down harshly. "So all's we have to do is find out who this Mayumi chick's target was, and that person's the perp, right?"

"Well, let's ask Estelle. You know, since she's been proven to be innocent and was the first to discover Mayumi." Ricard suggests, smiling anxiously. This whole trial must be especially stressful for him, the local conflict resolver. "Did you manage to ask her who her assailant was before she...uh...passed into the next realm?"

"I...I tried. I really, really did." I murmur, visibly deflating. "But Mayumi...she said it doesn't matter anymore and refused to properly answer."

"What?!" Lance roars, going pink in the face with anger. Violet surges up. "What an absolute _imbecile_! Of COURSE it matters who attacked her! Does she just WANT us to die or something?! Thanks a lot for nothing, dead girl!"

"Settle down, Mister Hawthorn," Carina groans, massaging her temples to alleviate some stress. "I'm sure Miss Kichida had her own reasons for not giving a name. For example, perhaps she feared for the remaining Elites' fates should this interloper be revealed. After all, Miss Malgosia did say that the Self Insert is apparently a force to be reckoned with."

"H-H-How are we supposed to f-find the killer n-n-now?" Ellanora sighs, sounding extremely dejected. "We've g-gone through so much e-evidence, and still come up e-empty h-h-handed..."

"Hey, now that's not true." Thomas disagrees with a tip of his mailman's cap. "We didn't talk about the missing paper from the Quest Board yet."

"Does it really matter at this point?" Michael yawns, throwing his arms behind his head. "Ever since Monoryuu showed up, all the Quests have gone blank. I doubt one missing sheet of white paper will affect us-or this case-that much."

"Doesn't that seem a bit...I don't know, weird?" Endi points out, the tiniest of frowns on his feminine face. "Why remove that single Quest out of all the ones on there? Something must have separated that paper from the others, which is why it got removed."

"Could it be...that there was actually a message...on there?" Cado asks, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Oh, I gotcha, my man! It was probably disposed of cuz someone scribbled a raunchy line on there! Ya know, like an immature kid seeking self validation from their peers!" Jaxon laughs in a carefree manner. "Something like..._Hey, baby! Are you homework? Cuz I'd sure like to slam you against a desk and do you all ni_-"

"**MOVING ON.**" Priscilla interjects with forced calmness, instantly shutting the wayfarer up. She wears a frighteningly sunny grin, which betrays the sinister, bubblegum pink aura she's giving off.

"Anyway, Nissa is super duper curious about what was maybe on the missing paper!" The Kind girl squeaks, twirling her baton around like a member of a marching band. "She kinda has a feeling it might be connected to the murder!"

"Just your intuition, eh, Sailor Star?" Mana asks, arching an eyebrow. Nissa nods enthusiastically, earning a heaved breath from the mercenary. "Should've known better than to ask you."

"Well, we gotta look at all the possibilities, right? So it might be true! Nissa pouts, puffing her cheeks outward. "Like, what if Mayumi came into the guild at night to leave us an important note? And then the first person to read the note took it down so the rest of us couldn't see it?"

"But what sort of message would compel someone to just remove it from the Quest Board altogether...? And why do you think Mayumi put up the note? I inquire, bringing a curled hand to my chin. "The front doors to the guild are always unlocked, according to Monoryuu. Anyone could easily access the Quest Board."

"**I've got the answer!**" Zachariah insists, his baritone booming across the makeshift. courtroom. Monoryuu yelps and leaps up in his seat from the volume, shooting the knight a dirty look. Zachariah, of course, ignores the familiar.

"No offense, Zach, but I didn't see anything else out of the ordinary in the guild." Thomas disagrees, shaking his head. "Well, I was kinda arguing with Lance for most of the time, but still." The aforementioned ventriloquist lets out an irritated huff at the mention of his name. He mumbles under his breath; something about not giving the mailman permission to use his name so casually.

"I have to side with Thomas on this one," Frieda chimes in, her abyss-like eyes half lidded, "I do not recall any other suspicious things from that part of the village."

"Oh ho! And that is where you are incorrect!" Zachariah argues, thrusting a pointer finger in the composer's general direction. Frieda frowns, opening her mouth (most likely to chide something along the lines of "it's rude to point"), but is quickly interrupted. "The finer details are often overlooked, as is the case here! Mayumi was indeed the individual who entered the guild and left that letter-only for it to be later destroyed!"

My ears perk up at the sound of triumph glistening in Zachariah's voice. I do vaguely remember his fixation on a few seemingly mundane items during our investigation. He's sure to bring them up now, I think, but can he really turn this trial around with just a few pieces of so-called evidence? Zachariah may have been able to stumble his way into offering a reasonable line of logic once, but twice?

"Alright then, humor me," I challenge, pursing my lips into a tight, straight line, "what exactly did you find that proves that it was Mayumi and not someone else who wrote up a Quest?"

"Think back to two nights prior!" Zachariah commands, slamming a balled up fist into an open palm. The impact is harsh and makes a statement of conviction. He is dead set on this route.

"Oh, yes! There was a terrible storm that time, right?" Priscilla recalls, resting her round chin on her hands. "Good thing it cleared by the mornin', 'else I doubt any 'o of would've gotten a wink of sleep!"

"There definitely was inclimate weather." I agree, shuddering at the memory of clapping thunder and flashing lights. "That's irrelevant to this matter, though."

"Is is very much relevant, milady!" Zachariah retorts fiercely, rattling my golden confines with furious navy blows. I need to fumble for the bars to keep myself from being knocked over. "The next morning, there were traces of a strange white powder at the guild entrance!"

"I do remember seeing something like that when I went out on my midnight stroll," I confess slowly, "though I didn't think much of it at the time. I assumed it was dust or something."

"Not dust," The knight informs me, his mouth furling into a frown, "but something that one of us here is very well accustomed to working with!"

"Er, Zach, buddy...I don't think anyone here deals drugs." Jaxon groans, scratching the nape of his neck. "I mean, granted, some of us are definitely more sketchy than others-"

"What the hell are you looking at ME for?!" Michael demands, not appreciating the wayfarer's wary look. "I didn't do anything, I _swear_!"

"That's what they all say~" Mana chirps, snickering to herself to the side.

"**No, you've got that wrong!**" I object, leaping back into the action. Everything has suddenly clicked. That's it; it's not just any powdery white substance, and it's not a drug. Something easily accessible, something that one of us readily uses...an item I had overlooked despite having dealt with it firsthand myself...!

"Oh? You know what Zachariah speaks of, do you?" Frieda giggles, to which I firmly nod. "Well then, I suppose you have a likely culprit picked out? Kindly point them out for us, will you?"

"Well...it's obvious when you consider that the only substance the powder can be is flour." I mumble, my eyes gradually drifting toward a certain Courageous student. I hesitate for a moment before calling out a name. "Isn't that right, _Priscilla_?"

* * *

"What? Lil' ol' me?" The baker repeats, pointing to herself. She tilts her head to one side out of curiosity, wearing a rather sunny, unfazed expression. I guess I'd rather have her happy-go-lucky personality present instead of...uh...her other one.

"Yes, _you_-you're looking really sketchy right now." I accused her pointedly. "Lance and I spent the day baking with you, and you were giving us very precise instructions on making bread. It seems weird that you wouldn't notice a newly opened sack of flour!"

"Hey, Bubbles is right!" Mana notices, narrowing her emerald eyes at her fellow Courageous student. "When I was investigation' the bakery with Mom, she didn't point out anything she spotted."

"P-P-Priscilla is the p-perpetrator then...?" Ellanora mutters, nibbling nervously on her lower lip. "No one would just c-c-conceal evidence like th-that..."

"Now hold on a minute, y'all..." Priscilla requests, holding up both of her hands in an act of innocence, "I have no idea what in tarnation you're going on 'bout.

"After Stellie and Lancie finished up their baking, we were told to go on a Quest. That took up the whole rest o' the night. 'N like I said 'fore, I got up early and spent the day after cleaning up after their play date. Turned in real early 'cause it plum tired me out. I didn't get 'round to completely cleaning everythin' up 'fore the body discovery announcement, so I figured don't bring up what ain't actual proof."

"Couldn't you have easily gotten flour much earlier? The moment you found a bakery in the village, you started making cakes and such for everyone." Endi points out, only to be met with a rebuttal from Carina.

"Priscilla would have had no reason to take flour with her. Monoryuu had not yet changed the rules," the falconer argues, shattering Endi's theory, "and it has already been clearly established that the killer was the one planning premeditated murder, not the victim."

"But the flour..." Thomas mumbles weakly, earning a chilling glare from Carina.

"Anyone has access to it, not just the baker." She clarifies, frowning at the mailman. Thomas hastily glances away, not willing to meet Carina's discerning gaze.

"She has no alibi the day of the murder, though! No one here can vouch for her, since Priscilla claims she was cleaning the bakery by herself!" Michael counters, not looking kindly upon the baker. "Let's just vote her up! She's so clearly guilty!"

"For your information, Mister Jagner, I happened upon Miss Olry on her way to an early bed time at the guild. She was free of flour at the time." Carina explains calmly, arms across her chest. "In fact, I greeted her in the morning as well, just as she was heading off to clean up."

"Oi, that doesn't change anything!" Johanna bellows angrily, her voice tinged with deep gravel, "The fact is that no one actually saw Sunshine 'n Rainbows doing what she _says_ she was! That means she's _lying_! She's responsible for the flour and the murder!"

"**You've got that wrong!**" I yell out, bringing all eyes to me. "Lance and I can give Priscilla an alibi for the other day, but she doesn't need an other alibi for the day of the murder. When I went outside and discovered the body, there were traces of a white powder left behind at the guild, but not a whole lot.

"That means the culprit most likely sprinkled the flour around the night of the Quest-when Priscilla clearly had witnesses around-and the flour was wiped away later. And their motive for doing such a thing? To see if anyone went outside after curfew! Flour would catch footprints, and show that someone tried to leave."

Wait. Something doesn't seem quite right here. Putting down something to see if a student in the guild moved out...but why obsess over keeping track of it? Especially when Carina had established an additional clause so suddenly!

"Er, but that brings up another issue." Ricard sighs, glancing down at his feet anxiously. "Wouldn't this have had to have happened after Monoryuu showed up-or after the Quest? Otherwise there would be no purpose in seeing if anyone left when they weren't supposed to or not."

"There was still some time before night, or 10:00 pm struck when we returned from the Quest!" Nissa exclaims, leaping up on one foot. "Someone coulda gone then, all paranoid cuz of the new killing game idea, y'know? We went to bed as soon as we got back, quiverin' and shiverin'! As if the Quest wasn't already scary enough!"

"Speaking of Quests," Frieda brings up softly, "if we make the assumption that Mayumi left us that missing paper on the board, then we must assume that it was her footprints that were tracked in the flour."

"I see," Zachariah responds bluntly, his fingers wrapped around his chin. His eyes are strangely hard and analytical, bearing into Priscilla with the utmost of caution. "Miss Olry, if you do not mind my asking, was there a paper missing from the Quest Board when you turned in for bed early?"

"Golly, no. Everything was there, as it should be." Priscilla confesses, sugary sweet as usual. She pauses before adding, "When Carina and I were up the next morning, I did notice a paper gone. She was up earlier than me, though, so maybe it's better that y'all ask Carina here?" The baker gestures toward the student in question.

"...That is correct." Carina chimes in, although she is quick to avoid prolonged eye contact with Priscilla. "And with regards to the Quest Board, I am having trouble recalling its state prior to what Miss Olry described."

"Surely that can't be! You're one of the most detail-oriented people here!" I sputter in shock, gaping at the falconer. How can she claim something so absurd at a time like this?! "You couldn't have missed obvious evidence like a missing Quest!"

"Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Malgosia, that you are not the only one suffering from this ill fate?!" Carina snaps back venomously, giving me a death glare. "Plenty of us are aggravated and sleep-deprived as well! Don't you go around pointing fingers and subjecting us to your narrow mindset!"

I jump back, having not expected the bird keeper to react this violently. What's the big deal? All I did was comment on how odd it was for Carina to have not taken into account such a blatant clue!

"So you claim you did not at all look at the Quests beforehand?" Zachariah clarifies, prompting Carina to answer. The Loyal girl's eyes become dagger-like slivers as she exclaims her next line.

"Other than for the Manifestation Quest, I have not given the dreadful board a second glance." Carina says very slowly and carefully, as though addressing a young, ignorant child. "Why would I?"

"What're you talking about?" Priscilla pipes up, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "You were staring directly at the Quests when I said good mornin' to ya."

Everything grinds to an abrupt, screeching halt. It's like walking into a brick wall-you're first hit with a dizzy, nauseous feeling from the initial impact, followed by the revelation of the event that has transpired. And then when you look back on it, you realize how dumb you were for missing such an obvious thing.

"Have you got it now, milady?" Zachariah inquires, his voice nearly a whisper-and yet for some reason, I can still hear him very clearly from across me. His face is painted with sorrow and disappointment for what is to come-the moment of truth; the final accusation.

I meet his hazel eyes as a new epiphany strikes me._ He knew,_ I realize, _he knew all along._ From the moment this investigation ended, Zachariah had an inkling of who the killer was. But he didn't say anything, not until it was properly confirmed.

_What do you want from me? The satisfaction of knowing that you were right? That you showed up everyone here, even the Wise kids?_ I want to shout all of my pent up frustration and questions at the knight, but it is not the time nor place for that.

"Er...Mister G-Garmont? A-Are you o-okay?" Ellanora squeaks, wearing a concerned expression on her face. "U-Um...cuz you just stopped t-talking all of a s-s-sudden..."

"Never better," he lies, continuing to gaze harshly at me. Ellanora glances back and forth between the two of us frantically, trying to piece together our unspoken words. Zachariah abruptly breaks off the eye contact and instead stares at his own two hands. They are visibly shaking, even from a distance.

...At long last, I understand what he is trying to convey.

No one wants to be the one to accuse another of murder-and certainly not if that other person is what one considers a "friend". Zachariah, who has already ended so many lives, doesn't want to be the one tasked with that. More blood on his hands. The guilt would weigh heavy on his shoulders, sinking his spirits.

I guess I owe it to the idiot for helping us out this far...even when we doubted him. B-But not because I feel bad for Zachariah or anything! Only because our lives are on the line!

So I speak.

"It's you!" I cry, jabbing a finger in the culprit's direction. "_You_ killed Mayumi Kichida!"

* * *

Everything around us seems to explode, but my ears manage to drown out the surprise and outrage around me. Right now, it is just the Cursed and I, locked in a battle, our words as our weapons. This is the final chapter of this trial, I note. Time to take her down.

"..._Beg pardon_?" Carina hisses, her temperament instantly icy and hostile. A faint, ghostly shadow flickers behind her, a Manifestation on the brink of birth. "So now it's _my_ fault? Do try to not go around accusing people willy-nilly, Miss Malgosia! This is a very serious matter!"

"Then explain yourself!" I demand, unwilling to back down. "Why did you claim you weren't looking at the Quest Board when you were?!"

"Well, that's clear, isn't it?" Carina shoots back hastily. Upon her shoulder, Icarus caws in a screeching tone at me. "To see what was written on the board, of course!"

"You confess to seeing a new Quest tacked up, even though you denied it earlier?" I repeat, not letting up on my verbal assault. Carina is a stubborn individual; it will take more elbow grease than this to coax information out of her.

"Look, I stated that I forgot before, but I remember now." Carina insists, her voice sharp as a blade. "There was a Quest from an unknown sender, M.K., so I thought to promptly dispose of it and not bring it up. We wouldn't want another mishap with the Manifestation Quest to occur. Unlike you, I try to learn from my mistakes.

"So I may be guilty of destroying potentially incriminating proof, but that is it! No murder had occurred at the time, so I am not at all liable for concealing evidence."

"What did the note say?" I push, turning Carina's cheeks a bright pink from irritation. After taking a deep breath, she proceeds to answer me. "What did M.K., Mayumi Kichida, write for us?"

"She had requested for someone-although she didn't specify who-to meet her at 11:30 pm in the candlestick maker's." Carina reports in a stern tone. "Being as suspicious as it was, especially after I implemented an additional clause to the night time rule, I tossed the paper out. We can't risk losing any lives because of another vague Quest!"

"Mayumi set up the trap at the candlestick maker's-else she wouldn't ask to meet at a place so out of place." I explain, holding my ground in combat. "And someone must have responded to her Quest, seeing as a struggle occurred. You were the only one to read the Quest, Carina! Driven by your paranoia, your call to duty...You were the only one who could have met her!"

"Nonsense! _Anyone_ could have gotten up in the middle of the night and to read the Quest before me!" Carina insists, her Manifestation sparking in and out of reality like a fire trying to come to life from wet wood. She is trying to suppress her rage. "_You_ were having issues sleeping-what's to say we weren't _all_ awake with worry?!"

"They were fearful-they would have stayed indoors! You told them that going outside is a safety hazard-yet you went ahead and broke your _own_ rule!" I remind her, grinding my teeth. "Admit it! You killed Mayumi!

"I did _no_ such thing! The killer is currently wounded from a struggle with the victim, is he not? The only injuries you will find on my being are on my arms-various scratches and scars left from training falcons. No such human-like marks will be found on me."

"Prove it. If Mayumi and the killer _did_ engage in a fight, they would have been facing each other. The killer would have sustained a wound on their face or torso. And you're always wearing your conservative red dress, Carina. It covers up nearly everything-wounds and leftover blood and all."

"_Hah_!" Carina sneers, letting out an airily high laugh. She's starting to sound delusional with her level of denial. "That's ridiculous! I have no need to make such an atrocious move. Look at me, Miss Malgosia! Do you really think I am fit enough and fast enough to kill another person, get medical supplies, plant evidence, and wash the victim's blood away? If Mayumi died at midnight, there's no way I could have gotten all of that done!

"You were present at the scene of the crime as the victim was dying, Miss Malgosia. You could have easily detected me if I tried to do anything."

"You didn't have to!" I rebut, sending Carina recoiling in terror. "The body discovery announcement wasn't made until nearly 7:00 am, while Mayumi died at 12:00 am. I had already passed out by that time. You had nearly seven whole hours to alter everything as you deemed fit!"

"Seven whole hours?! Then why am I to be blamed?!" Carina screeches like a banshee. Behind her, the Manifestation bursts into flames, entering as a fire bird, sparks flying, plumage the colors of the sunset parading about. The ethereal phoenix hovers above her, waiting for Carina's words to guide it. "Anyone else can be guilty! **ANYONE**!"

"No, not just anyone!" I argue, my own words forming a Scarlett red wyvern to match Carina's Manifestation. "The meat cleaver left at the scene of the crime had weird markings on its handle-non human markings. Only Mayumi could have entered the butcher's to take it as a weapon in the night, but a small flying creature could easily have retrieved it from her. A being with sharp talons-say, a _falcon_-could leave those makes behind on the handle. And being as cautious as you are, Carina, you'd let Icarus deal with the red herring for you while you tidied up your murderous trail of evidence!"

At last, the Manifestations launch off, clashing midair in a warm light show. Reds, oranges, and yellows collide as a dragon and phoenix brawl, flames entangling one another, seeking dominance. By the time the two illusions fade away, they have left the atmosphere tense. Icarus screeches at the top of his lungs, cheering the fight on.

"I tried to _help_ her," Carina rasps at last, almost completely inaudible, "but I was too late...too late...**TOO LATE**!"

"Too _late_...?" Then, it dawns on me. "Ah! So the medical supplies weren't for the killer after all!" They were for the victim. Carina tried to save Mayumi while she was still alive, but she had already _passed_ by the time she returned.

My gut clenches up in horror. Is this all just one big misunderstanding? Could everything have been resolved peacefully if we had just chosen to speak with each other like civilized human beings instead of savage heathens?

The air is suddenly pierced by the falconer's insane, almost incomprehensible laughter. Running her hands madly through her tangled, frizzy mop, she rambles off a bunch of nonsense unrelated to the trial. "Silence, silence, silence! I need _silence_! You scholars just think you're SO high and mighty, don't you?! Sitting around while the rest of us do your work for you...! That's a load of bull!

"I, too...I, too...I work hard for _glory_...! But it never comes...the recognition! **THE RECOGNITIOOOOON**!"

"Carina, I'll settle this once and for all. It's clear that you can't think straight at the moment," I promise the Loyal student, clenching my fists. She is starting to go mad, I suspect, from the pressure. "From beginning to end,_ this_ is how you came to kill Mayumi Kichida!"

_A seventeenth student entered the Story a day or two ago. This person was Mayumi Kichida, an outsider who was well aware of this realm's mechanics and laws, as well as the ones residing in it. For reasons unknown, she had determined that someone in the current cast of Characters was dangerous and had to be eliminated. Mayumi planned to take this upstart out herself, and prepared a trap._

_Meanwhile, we had just been sent home following the introduction to the fairy tale life of mutual killing. Fukushi escorted us back to the guild, which is when Carina proposed adding our own clause to the night time rule. This stated that we should stay in our bedrooms until morning to avoid possible casualties. She was concerned for our safety, but questioned the intentions of some of us. After we had turned in, Carina used this to her advantage to take flour from the bakery and scatter it about the guild entrance before a storm set in. The intention of this was to catch anyone who tried to sneak out of the guild in the night._

_What happened next was something completely unexpected. Carina woke up early the next morning to check in the flour, and was surprised to find that someone had not left the guild, but rather entered. She rushed to clean up the flour, but left some behind. Carina then began investigating the guild for any weird changes, and found a note that Mayumi had posted up on the Quest Board, where she demanded that an unknown student meet her at the candlestick maker's at 11:30 pm that night._

_Out of fear, Carina destroyed the Quest and decided to look into this matter on her own, not wanting to get anyone else involved after her last blunder. After all, recklessly dragging all of us into a random Quest almost got us killed by a Manifestation. Carina almost got caught in the act of disposing of the note by Priscilla. She had also woken up early, although it was to clean up the mess Lance and I left in the bakery from the day before._

_Later that night, Carina went to the meeting place as described on the Quest-and she fell into Mayumi's trap! Carina tripped on the wire and was locked into the candlestick maker's with a horde of lard candles. Because Mayumi is not formally a part of the Story, she is not bound to its laws and thus had access to various buildings and supplies, even at night time. The smoke started to suffocate Carina, but she managed to break down the door. It was not locked, instead clumsily latched shut with a wooden board since they wouldn't autolock for Mayumi, a non-character._

_Mayumi had been lying in wait outside for her victim to completely pass out before taking further action, but was surprised when Carina burst out. She tried to run, but Carina pursued after the unfamiliar face, demanding details. Mayumi gave an unsatisfactory answer or a threat, something that angered Carina and escalated into a full struggle. The victim had armed herself with a meat cleaver ahead of time, but Icarus managed to take the weapon from her. Because they were in motion as this was happening, Icarus left clear talon marks on the handle._

_In the middle of the fight, Carina accidentally bashed Mayumi's head against the water fountain ledge, knocking her temporarily unconscious. Carina panicked and ran off to the apothecary's for medical supplies. She had sustained a wound from Mayumi, but stumbled to quickly bandage it and cover it up with her conservative dress. Since Carina was in a hurry to get back and help Mayumi, she left the shop in ruins while rummaging through for the right materials to save Mayumi, leaving traces of blood there. When she got back, the victim was already dead, and I had arrived at the scene of the crime. Realizing that she was guilty for murder, Carina sought to dispose of any incriminating evidence._

_Unable to risk me regaining my conscious while she was cleaning up blood, Carina chose to avoid washing herself with water from the fountain. Instead, she retreated to the bath house, as indicated by the bucket of bloody, soapy water. Unfortunately for Carina, she left behind her medical supplies instead of returning them to the apothecary's, and forgot to hide the cleaver. Whether she purposefully did this out of guilt, anxiety, or to throw us of her track, I do not know._

_Carina, not willing to risk returning to the crime scene, slipped back into her guild room with Icarus. Several hours later, Zachariah arose early for morning patrol and happened across Mayumi and I. And from there, well, you know how it went._

_That's **that!**_

The one who killed Mayumi Kichida was definitely **you**!

* * *

"...Isn't that right, Carina?" I say quietly, slowly bringing my eyes to hers. The falconer's pupils are constricted and frantic, staring back at me like a rabbit caught in a trap. It's a look of utter defeat, a complete mismatch with her usual stern, unwilling to budge demeanor.

"I...I...!" She struggles to find her words, trembling inside her sparkling cage. Flames spurt up like a geyser before dying back down. "I'm..." All of a sudden, her head droops like a wilting flower. At last, Carina has given up.

"Guil...ty..."

"...I have nothing more to say in my defense." The falconer adds in a monotone. Her gaze seems far and distant, almost as though she is possessed by a ghost. "It was a rather poorly crafted one to begin with. My fear and panic got the better of me, I suppose."

Around Carina, the Elites hold their breaths, waiting for what is to come. It's not pretty, but it's the truth. And what a truth it is. The leader of our group falling from grace so quickly...And a Loyal student at that! If the Loyal can kill, then who is to say a Wise, Courageous, or hell, even a Kind student, can't?! Horror surges up and gets caught in my throat.

"I am guilty of killing Mayumi Kichida. That is all."

"Carina...you..." My mouth flies open to demand more answers; clarification, to be exact. A part of me refuses to believe that Carina murdered Mayumi, even though she has already confessed to it. With such a strong will, with such leadership skills, with such a tendency to deliver justice...why would she do it?

"Speak no more!" Carina commands with a brisk wave of her hand, silencing me. Icarus stiffens, sensing his master's repressed anger. "This trial has already dragged on for far too long. Let us not waste any more of our time, as Mr. Hawthorn has already stated." A harsh frown smeared on her face, the falconer turns to a half asleep Monoryuu. "We are ready. Begin the voting."

"Oh, hell YEAH! I thought you'd never ask!" The familiar cheers, bolting up from his seat in a heartbeat. "Let's get this show on the road!" With a grunt, Monoryuu throws more of his energy into the court room, causing the flowers decorating our cages to lower in front of us. Right before my eyes, the petals of my flora morph into the pages of a leather bound novel, accompanied by a golden quill.

_More witchcraft..._

"Er...this is a neat little trick." Nissa offers weakly, her grin wavering. "W-We're gone here, so can Nissa go home now?"

"No one leaves until each of you has voted," Monoryuu hisses brightly, throwing a smile in the illusionist's direction. "Now! All's you gotta do is real simple...write down the name of the Elite you think is the most likely killer! The cauldron'll process all the information like a new-fangled com-poot-er and tally everything up!"

"I think you mean to say _computer_..." Ricard squeaks, raising a slightly trembling finger.

"Whatever, whatever!" Monoryuu cries, rolling his eyes at the hunter. "Why you gotta be so politically correct all the time? Just go with it and vote already!"

"B-But-"

"It's now or never!" Monoryuu cackles excitedly, flapping over to his cauldron. It has started frothing and spilling out an eerie neon green fog ever since the familiar announced for voting to occur. His impatience gets the better of him, for the dragon declares, "Five seconds to pick up that damn pen and put down a name, or you _all_ get the axe!"

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!"

"Five..."

"_Oh my god_, what do we do?!"

"Four..."

"Just _obey_ the dragon before we all get killed!"

"Three..."

"Grrr, we have _no_ choice!"

"Two..."

"Carina, please _forgive_ me."

"One...!"

"VOTE ALREADY, YOU FOOLS!" Carina insists, her voice spiking up to a shrill volume. "DON'T WASTE YOUR LIVES FOR THIS!"

She doesn't need to tell us again. Various hands seize the quills hovering before them and scrawl a name down into their books. I, too, am quick to join in upon Monoryuu's sudden threat. Golden ink flows across the page, spelling out Carina Arcard. At once, the tomes before us snap shut with a resounding howl. Monoryuu's cauldron erupts with smoke, casting a dark shadow overhead.

"Let's see, let's see!" The dragon cheers, his giddiness almost frightening. Beside him, Fukushi pales to a sickly mozzarella white, a terrified squeal crawling out of his beak. He remains frozen in his cage, unable to stop anything, despite being our Narrator.

The smoke in the skies unfurls back to reveal a foggy face above. It's no surprise whose it is. Even so, I break out into a cold sweat, heart thumping hard against my chest. Is it in guilt or anticipation of what is to come?

"Well, well, _well_! Looks like you guys voted for Carina Arcard as Mayumi Kichida's killer!" Monoryuu laughs, bellowing at our pathetic position. He's clearly the one running the Story now. "And you would be...**CORRECT**!" With a clap of his claws, the familiar sends a storm of festive confetti down upon us.

I don't feel particularly celebratory. I doubt anyone else does, either. We just found a murderer in our midst, someone who called themselves our ally...what is there to be grinning and sharing slices of cake about? Carina herself even appears to be more miffed at the pseudo-celebration than her conviction.

"I gotta say, though...I'm disappointed in you, Sir Knight," Monoryuu pipes up, casting a dirty sideways glance at Zachariah. "You ruined what could have been a perfectly unanimous vote! Neh,_ neh_! No one likes a dumbass party pooper!" The familiar makes a face at the Courageous boy, who turns away to avoid direct conflict.

"What do you mean by that?" Carina inquires, narrowing her eyes at the dragon. "It is clear that I am the killer; I even suspect that Zachariah knew long before any of the others did. No one in their _right mind_ would purposefully vote someone else up. The very idea is ludicrous."

"Oh...but he _did_." Monoryuu mumbles, downtrodden and gray. "What kind of stunt...are you tryin' to pull here, huh? You're a lad with common sense...yet you voted for yourself, and not her...Why didn't you go for the one who was clearly guilty? Quit tryin'...to be a big Hero, you dipshit..."

"I have no duty to answer to you." Zachariah replies smoothly, baritone sharp as a blade. Monoryuu recoils at his sass, letting out an irritated hiss. "But if thou must know, I believe myself to be responsible for not being more alert during my many patrols. Had I been more cautious, perhaps I could have prevented this tragedy from playing out. That is why I voted for myself and not Lady Carina as the guilty party."

Everyone knows he is bullshitting, but his eyes blaze with a quietly concealed, defiant rage. I wonder how someone like Zachariah can be so silly and yet so profound at the same time. He really _is_ an oddball.

"You think you can talk back to me, ya punk?!" Dark Monoryuu roars, the ground at our feet shaking precariously. "You better take back them words, or I'll-"

"You are not involved in the matter. This discussion need only apply to us; the Characters." Zachariah insists calmly, his eyes honing in on a certain falconer. Monoryuu fumes, but surprisingly does not lash out at the knight. "I, for one, wish to hear Lady Carina's side of the Story. Her motive was not as simple as escape, am I correct in saying so?"

My ears perk up. The knight is full of surprises today. First revealing that he knew the killer all along...then purposefully defying Monoryuu to make a statement. And how this? Claiming that all is not what it may seem? He really_ is_ a Courageous fool, isn't he?

"Zachariah, that's a bit far fetched-" I begin to say, but Carina immediately interrupts.

"He is right." The falconer whispers, clenching her stomach in disgust. "I...I tried my best...my very, _very_ best to make sure that we would all make it out alive...and then Mayumi showed up and threatened the peace. I had _no choice_ but to...!"

"You mean because she tried to kill one of us? Cuz we already know that part pretty well." Mana sighs, worn out and slightly irritated from the trial. "And you wanted to escape really badly, yeah? You were the one to initiate the first Quest 'n all, Birdbrain."

"No-although that may have played an integral part in the events that transpired that night! Please properly enlighten us, Lady Carina," Zachariah prompts gently, his voice barely audible, "on your true motive."

The Loyal student looks doubtful, her lips in a tight line as she stares questioningly at Zachariah. After everything we have gone through, is there more to the mystery than we had originally thought? How lucky is Zachariah to have guessed all of that...? Or perhaps it isn't just luck, but logic?

_Actual, honest-to-goodness **logic**?_

All eyes slowly drift to Carina.

"Very well then. I shall speak if you will have me." The falconer announces, caving in to the knight's request. "The reason behind my loathsome actions...to begin with, Mayumi Kichida was expecting a specific victim out of the sixteen of us to answer to her Quest. And her intended victim...in killing them, Mayumi would achieve her ultimate goal of **destroying hope**."

_...What?_

* * *

"Wait, so...so Mayumi was a bad guy?" Thomas mumbles slowly, eyes widening at Carina's declaration. "That doesn't make sense! She was trying to warn us of an interloper right? Mayumi must be on our side!"

"I...I was not under that impression when I first encountered her." Carina confesses, Icarus crouching by her cheek as a form of encouragement. "Everything did occur as Miss Malgosia said.

"I was on edge following Monoryuu introducing us to the fairy tale life of mutual killing, of course I was on edge, and proposed the additional night rule to keep us safe. I still did not entirely trust everyone yet; so I used a simple tracking method with the flour.

"Imagine my surprise when there were footsteps leading into the guild rather than out! Of course, I removed what flour I could and checked the guild for any oddities. Mayumi had left a note asking an unknown person to meet her at 11:30 at the candlestick maker's. Foolish as I was, I hid the note and decided to meet the stranger myself. After all, I could not risk putting my classmates in danger a second time.

"I fell into her trap, but managed to throw the door open. I saw Mayumi's fleeting figure and pursued. With Icarus's assistance, I was able to corner her by the water fountain. She had a meat cleaver in her hands, so I approached cautiously."

_"You there. Kindly drop your weapon, and state your name and reason for being here."_

_"I will do no such thing. I serve...a higher being. You have no right to demand any information out of me."_

_"Listen to me, newcomer. Put the cleaver down. You could seriously hurt someone. Hell, you could have killed me with that confounded trap of yours. Don't tell me...you plotted this all out? You wanted to do away with me?!"_

_"Oh, no, no, no. You have it all wrong. The message was meant for **someone else**. You're not my target; you simply took the bait before they had the chance to bite."_

_"Just what exactly is your goal? You're not a Character I've ever seen before...and if you're trying to kill one of us, you certainly can't be siding with us."_

_"Nonsense; I shall restore order to this Story by ridding myself of the unnecessary elements...namely a little something you like to call hope."_

_"N-No! You can't do that...! I won't allow it! Hope is all we have let in our dire situation! Don't you realize that?!"_

_"Are you stupid? **Hope is like a disease, a cancer**! You're better off without it than with it. Keep hope alive in its pathetic vessel, and you will be met with a Tragic End."_

_"Lies! If you mean to kill off an Elite that so clearly symbolizes hope, you are our enemy. Leave now, and I will turn the other cheek."_

_"You have no authority over me. Only the **Author** decides what I can and can't do-and my orders were very clear. Destroy anyone who disturbs the flow of the Story...and this someone happens to be a particularly hopeful individual. Anything in excess is hazardous, after all."_

_"You can't be serious. I forbid it! Killing is **not** welcome under any circumstances, no matter how dangerous you claim this...this unknown Elite to be. And hope will never die, even if you try to be rid of it!"_

_"Oh? Who exactly is going to stop me? You, Carina Arcard? And your little falcon, Icarus, too?"_

_"H-How do you know our names?"_

_"I know all about you people as a **Reader**. Everything, down to your sweetest dreams and darkest fears..."_

_"Impossible! Y-You can't possibly-"_

_"I know it all. You were raised in the Arcard household, watched strictly and guided by the hand every day of your life. Too bad you didn't become the ideal lady and scholar your parents wanted you to be. What a disappointment to see that you took up bird keeping instead of keeping the family legacy alive!"_

_"S-Silence! You keep your nosy face out of my personal affairs!"_

_"My bad. It must be so bothersome knowing that you'll never be acknowledged by your own flesh and blood. Perhaps that is why you were to desperate to take on the role of leader for the Elites? To prove your own worth? To parents and relatives that may or may not accept you anyway?"_

_"Grrrr...Know your place, curr!"_

_"Ho-hum. Look here, Arcard. As fun as this idle chit-chat is, I have no bone to pick with you, the misfit daughter of some scholars. Step out of my way and let me put an end to your misery."_

_"You...I **don't** trust you. Put down your weapon. Now. Or I will have no choice but to restrain you."_

_"I welcome the challenge. It is your own funeral if you choose to be in my way...though I suppose it doesn't matter how many people die here, so long as the threat is promptly eliminated. Heroism survives all hardships; hopes does not."_

_"Let's test that theory out then, newcomer."_

_"Hee hee...let it be known that even if I fall here, others are watching. It will not end until the Story is returned to normal and hope is dead. Your true enemy is both hope and despair!"_

_"**SHUT UP**!"_

_..._

_..._

_...!_

_"Urgh!"_

_"O-Oh god...Oh god! What have I d-done?! You...are you okay?! Speak to me! Hey, I said **speak to me**!"_

_"...ven..."_

_"What was that?!"_

_"For...ty...sev...en...is the** lucky number**...give **forty seven**...permission to...to...End it..."_

_..._

_"S-She's not moving!_

_"C-Calm down, calm down...she's only unconscious! S-She still has a pulse; she'll be fine with some medicine and bandages! I-I gotta get to the apothecary's before...!"_

"But it was too late. By the time I returned, Mayumi was already long gone." Carina hangs her head in bitter shame and defeat. "It was a complete accident. What occurred as an attempt to suppress her from bringing further harm to the Elites resulted in her death. She struggled so much, even giving me a chest wound. Mayumi truly believed that what she was doing was right."

"It was just a bit misunderstanding after all...!" Ricard gasps, bringing his hands to his mouth. "I don't know whether to be relieved or even more upset."

"Wait a minute, what's with all the crazy mumbo jumbo that Mayumi chick blabbed about?!" Johanna demands, bringing a foot down firmly. "So is she with us or against us?! Sounds to me like she's working with Monoryuu, since she knows so much shit about the Story!"

"How should I know?!" Carina shoots back incredulously. "Just because Mayumi shouted some things at me doesn't mean I comprehended all of them! Even now, I am unaware of who her intended victim was. She attacked me, and I fought back. I didn't have time to think about what she mentioned in the moment."

"You said she called herself a Reader...and that she serves one called the Author?" Frieda repeats, cradling her chin in one hand. "Quite suspicious indeed. If this world is known as the Story, then it stands to reason that a Reader is tasked with watching us. That might explain why she knew so much. And an Author...authors write stories, so they may be responsible for putting us in our current predicament."

"And Mayumi was planning to kill one of us...to kill our hopes of escape!" Endi adds anxiously, wringing his hands together. "That doesn't sound very nice at all."

"N-Nissa thinks Mayumi was working with a group." The illusionist squeaks uneasily. "Cuz she said there were other Readers...s-so we aren't out of the woods yet. Not even close!"

"Just what the _hell_ are we up against?!" Jaxon cries, face palming. "Man, oh man...what've I done to get myself into this hot water?"

"Sounds like the mafia or somethin' to me!" Michael grunts unenthusiastically, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "Or even worse, maybe..."

"Worse?" Cado's brows furrow with worry. He evidently doesn't like the direction this conversation is going in.

"W-What really bothers me is the number Mayumi s-said before she died..." Ellanora admits, fumbling with her fingers. Fixated on math again, as per usual. "Forty seven...what s-sort of significance does that h-have?"

"Again, I am not sure." Carina shakes her head stubbornly, unsure of the answer herself. "But I suppose it doesn't matter at this point, now does it? I have committed a crime...and now I must pay for my sin."

"W-What?" I sputter, struggling to choke my words out. "C-Carina! You may have killed Mayumi, but it's clear that she didn't have the best intentions in mind for us! You shouldn't be punished for trying to keep us safe!" A murmur of agreement follows my argument, but is quickly interrupted by the local asshole.

"Your boorish commoners!" Lance snarls, his small face crimson with rage. "Don't you realize? It doesn't _matter_ whether it was an accident or not, or how pure her motive was or not! Carina _still_ put an end to a life and tried to cover it up!

"In fact, why didn't she confess to it right away and save us the time we wasted on this trial? Because she tried to get away with the murder and save her own heinie by sacrificing ours!" Carina's mouth flies open to argue, but Lance shuts her up. "And don't you dare try to deny it! You know perfectly well what the hell you were getting yourself into the moment you picked a fight with the Reader girl!"

"...Maybe so. Perhaps I deserve this cruel fate." Carina avoids the ventriloquist's icy glance, her eyes traveling from Elite to Elite. She lingers on my, her lips pulled back into a sad smile. "At first, I _did_ act as the leader of the group in an effort to prove myself. My family never respected my decision to choose training falcons over pursuing my studies. If I could get into Camelot Academy and lead my own classmates against a common foe, then maybe, just maybe, I would be accepted.

"But after getting to know everyone here, I started to realize that I don't need anyone's approval to feel worthy. The other Elites are just as odd and zany as I am, and we accepted each other for that. For the first time in my life, I feel complete...ironically, here, in the Story, where dangers are around every corner.

"This was my chance to start anew, to be someone different, to be my own person, not the person my parents wanted. I don't want to be like my family, nor will I ever be like my family. I am my own person, and in struggling against my assigned role to create a new identity for myself...in trying to protect my new allies, my friends...this happened."

"In the end..._your diligence was your undoing_, Miss Arcard." Fukushi murmurs, collapsing into a feathery blob of sorrow in his cage. He looks like a broken man-er, owl-utterly betrayed at the fact that one of his beloved Characters would dare murder another.

"Indeed it was!" Light Monoryuu cackles, interjecting the touching moment. "Now then, it's time to proceed with the execution!"

"S-Surely thou must jest!" Zachariah protests, slamming against his cage bars. "'Tis a cruel and unusual punishment for an accidental crime!"

"Who the fuck asked you, smartass?!" Dark Monoryuu sputters, spit flying out of his mouth. His single scarlet eye pulsates with an eerie aura. "This is how things work in the real world, lover boy! The bad get punished and the good have a laugh at it!"

"No, stop this madness!" I declare, chiming in with Zachariah. "Carina did nothing to deserve this! Let her free!" At once, the other Elites begin shouting at the dragon too, voicing their disagreement with the execution. Fukushi even joins in at some point, squawking about injustice.

"Sorry...no can do..." Monoryuu insists, a sinister smile etched across his scaly face. "The Cursed will now be punished accordingly! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! Let Carina Arcard meet the same fate as her victim, Mayumi Kichida!"

The same fate...a literal execution...in other words, _death!_

"_Let's give it everything we've got_!" Monoryuu exclaims happily, deaf to our protests. He launched up himself into the air, spinning around like a demented ballerina. His three different personalities seemingly speak at the same time. "_Bring the Loyal Falconer's Story to an tragic End!_ **IIIIIIT'S PUNISHMENT TIME**!"

With a flicker of light, Carina and Icarus vanish from their cage and into thin air. While we panic about their sudden absence, Monoryuu remains the sky, laughing wildly as his cauldron erupts with a cloud of green smoke. When the sickly veil clears up, the dragon has gone missing as well. In addition, a ghostly image now floats above the blackened pot, like a projector playing a horror movie.

My throat goes dry, my hands clammy.

What sort of _sick_ Story is this?

* * *

_Carina emerges in the projected image provided by the cauldron, firmly strapped to an ornate bird sculpture, a fuse sticking out of the bottom. In the backdrop is a beautiful sunset, reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows. Icarus circles overhead in panic, unsure of what to do._

_She struggles against her confines, but finds herself powerless against the strong ropes. Monoryuu pops up beside the falconer, his annoyingly squeaky cackles silenced by blaring execution music. Throwing us, his unwilling audience, a childish wink, Monoryuu lets out a line of fire, lighting the fuse on the bird sculpture. Music swells up._

**FLYING HIGH!**

_Carina's muted scream is unheard as she rockets off into the sky. She goes soaring up, up, up, nearly touching the sun itself. Carina's face, pink and sweating furiously, is very prominent. Monoryuu cheerily floats nearby, tossing handfuls of black and white feathers at her from a picnic basket, as though in celebration of her death. The feathers dance midair before incinerating into nothingness._

_Icarus attempts to catch up with his mistress to ensure her safety, but fails to do so, instead getting caught in a pink cloud of what appears to be cotton candy. Meanwhile, Carina and the bird sculpture veer around and steers toward the ground, eventually planting itself on a beachy landscape, the waves calmly lapping the shore and the sun beating down gently._

_The falconer heaves a sigh, still alive somehow, but likely high on adrenaline. Again, she lets out a grunt and tries to free herself from her confines. Suddenly, Carina freezes up, raising her head to the setting sun in the distance._

_Slowly, but surely, dark figures approach, their screeches shrill and horrifying. Carina's eyes widen, her pupils dilated in fear. A cast of falcons sail towards the Loyal student, beaks sharp as daggers. Monoryuu leaps up next to Carina with two glow sticks. He waves them frantically, signaling the falcons to hone in on her._

_In but a few moments, the birds of prey have gotten to Carina. Like the myth of Prometheus, they tear away at her flesh cleanly and efficiently. Magenta blood and guts fly, tainting the sand the colors of the sunset. Carina's limbs flail and tremble...and then they go limp._

_A flame expels from the Loyal girl's body, taking the shape of her Manifestation, a phoenix. With one glance at its now passed on physical form, it takes off to the skies, leaving behind a shower of light. It has moved on to a higher plane of existence._

_Monoryuu skips about Carina's corpse, ecstatic at her death. From above, Icarus finally lands on the scene. The falcon lands on a rocky crag, glancing in confusion at his mistress. He approaches slowly, prodding the nook of Carina's neck. She's cold; she doesn't move, her face bloodied and her torso open, organs hanging out for the world to see._

_Icarus realizes what has happened. His eyes wet. He buries his head in Icarus's sorrowful scream rings throughout all of the Story._

The Cursed, Carina Arcard, is gone-and she's not returning.

But I feel just as guilty.

We _all_ do.

It happens right before our eyes, and yet we are powerless to stop it. We're still trapped in the forest with a deranged dragon and a potentially dangerous traitor, with a mastermind and minions pulling all the strings. All we have is each other and an owl with a heart motif on his stomach.

Some would-be Heroes _we_ are.

* * *

"Ahahahah! What a Story!

"To think that those kids would actually get it right...they must have the devil's own luck!

"I wonder how things will play out for them from here on out. The Story should still progress as planned, if not with a few minor..._tweaks_, thanks to that person, no doubt.

"Hm, poor Mayumi though. Made out as the bad guy so early on! Quite naughty of her to pull that stunt off...and to blab so much...The Author wouldn't be happy with that.

"What jolly good fun. Twists and turns, thrills and chills...I haven't felt this entertained for a long time.

"Hm, I suppose I should remain on standby for now. Wouldn't want to make the same mistake Mayumi and Carina did.

"After all, _diligence leaves you dead as a doorknob_."

**TRIAL 1: END!**

**15 / 16 ELITES REMAIN**

* * *

**Hello, Danganronpa fans! =7= Finally, the first trial is done! Er, it took a while because of my EMT training classes, so sorry for the long wait. I'm working on PoisonBanana's Daycare Danganronpa one shot next, so the next OMMM chapter will be out in a few weeks.**

**Aaanyway, there you have it. Your killer, your execution, some more overarching plot related stuff. Badda-bing, badda-boom. Oh, and Zach actually being...smart?! Shocking, isn't it?**

**I'm so sad to off Carina...I have a soft spot for those Ishimaru-like characters, but it had to be done...**

**Well then! Mayumi seems to know much more than she lets on! Whose side is she really on? What is her motive? Is hope really the enemy? Is she trying to throw the Elites off the trail? Any theories? I'd love to hear them!**

**Now, rapid review responses, go!:**

**PoisonBanana: I swear...you are always the first to post a review on a new chapter! How are you that quick, man?! On another note, I'm glad you like the additions I've made to the class trials. It gives a surreal, mystical element to the story, which is odd, given that you're supposed to be logical during the trial segments. Yes, it is nice to see all sixteen students in action. And, well, you know now! Were you right?**

**Shaggy Rower: Yay! I'm so happy people like this new aesthetic. Ah, good point. Mana and Michael would be particularly skilled with traps, although I'm not sure about Zach. He has a pretty in-your-face sort of strategy when it comes to dealing with his enemies. Maybe not this trial, but in future trials this information may come into play...**

**Saiynt: Welcome back! I've missed your elaborate reviews! You're right to assume that there's more the Mayumi than meets the eye. Not everything about her has been revealed yet; she will continue to be very relevant, even in death. I'm glad to see that the reveal of the 17th student was so well received.**

**Oh, goody! Another fan of the magical elements of the trial! Happy to see that you're thoroughly enjoying OMMM! I tried to make the execution as detailed as possible without being so graphic that OMMM would turn into M for guts and gore. Hopefully it was satisfactory.**

**KomoriRin: Manifestations, Manifestations everywhere! Oh, everyone does have their own fantasy creatures that represent their inner spirit. They usually manifest during bold declarations. Otherwise, they form various shapes and just bright flashes of light sometimes. This trial focused mainly on Estelle's dragon-y thing and the killer's phoenix. Having too many familiars would muddle the trial up. We already have a large enough cast as it is!**

**Oooh, throwing an accusation Endi's way, eh? Well, you never know! If a Loyal student can kill now...who is the say a Kind student can't in the future?**

**RoboVolcano4: Ah, thank you for understanding my predicament! And I made your heart go thump-thump with my writing! Yay! Yeah, Johanna is free (for now)! Another survivor under our belts! Everyone seems to like the Manifestations during the trial, which is good.**

**Lance is the Togami of this group, what did you expect? Sympathy? Maybe from Toriel, but not Lance. ;)**

**misthallery: Whoa, three entire times?! You must have really overanalyzed the crap out of OMMM! Er, hopefully there are no glaring or major flaws.**

**Huge Ace Attorney nerd right here! *points to myself* Zach makes a perfect comedy duo / young lawyer duo with Estelle. You'd never expect it, though!**

**Nice guess. I did try to trick you there for a moment in this chapter when Priscilla is called out for the flour. But in the end, she helped (kind of) to point out Carina as suspicious!**

**Perhaps, perhaps. Frieda does get a lot of interaction in with Estelle and Zach, doesn't she? She plays devil's advocate quite often, and pushes Estelle (in her own...unique way...) to work harder.**

**Aw, why thank you!**

**RandomGuyonthestreet13: Hohoho! Timid Ellanora, a murderer? Then again, Mikan killed some people, so we can never be too wary, huh? And Michel can be pretty sketchy too...**

**Done with the review responses! I finally got a proper drawing tablet, so I plan to do artwork for OMMM; perhaps a new cover page. Suggestions will be taken via reviews if you would like to contribute. In other news, upcoming FTEs will feature Jaxon, Ellanora, Frieda, and Nissa!**

**Phew, I'm tired from doing CPR for two days straight...that's it for now. This is the Internet Exploring, signing out. I hope to see you all next chapter!**


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